Dixon's Vixen
by ElsaEditorial
Summary: This is a 1920s Prohibition-era story of bootleg booze, speakeasies, and an unlikely partnership. [AU - No Zombies]
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This story takes place in 1920s Prohibition. I did a lot of research prior to writing this story, but please note that all depictions of organized crime are fictional. These depictions are inspired by actual events in larger cities such as Chicago and New York (by the likes of Johnny Torrio, Al Capone, Frank Costello, Frankie Yale, etc.), but the depictions of criminal activity in this story are mostly a product of my imagination.**

**Please also note that for sake of authenticity, I do use some 1920s slang in this story. I try to include enough context clues so that you can understand the slang, but if it is problematic for any of you, please let me know and I can cut back on it.**

**The 1920s is my favorite decade to write about. I hope you enjoy this story! **

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><p><strong>September 19, 1924<strong>

Zora Brown put the finishing touches of rouge on her cheeks. Her short blonde hair was styled to perfection, and she pursed her red-painted lips at her reflection in the mirror, checking the symmetry of her carefully drawn cupid's bow. When she was satisfied with her appearance, she grabbed her purse and exited her small bedroom. She made her way past the kitchen, where her father sat at the kitchen table with a newspaper spread in front of him.

"I'm off to work, Daddy," she said.

He hummed in acknowledgment, not looking up from his newspaper. Zora carefully buckled her high-heeled shoes. She glanced back at her father and stifled an amused grin as he pulled a flask of whiskey from his jacket pocket and poured some of its contents into his cup of coffee. Daniel Brown had been a sergeant for the Atlanta police department for nineteen years, but he had never been a supporter of Prohibition. He voted for wet politicians whenever possible and enjoyed a little hooch himself now and then. Although the state of Georgia had been dry for twelve years before the Eighteenth Amendment had gone into effect, prohibiting alcohol nationwide, Zora's father had never obeyed the dry laws, regardless of his career as a law enforcement officer.

Her father's contempt for Prohibition also worked in Zora's favor in the case of her employment. She worked as a dancer in a small speakeasy, Walton's Moonshine & Wine, nearby in Atlanta's Five Points neighborhood. Her father had initially been much more opposed to her position as a dancer than to the nature of the establishment, but given time, he had come to accept it. He had raised Zora himself after her mother had died when she was very young, and she had grown up to be just as stubborn and headstrong as him. Her determination to work as she did could not be deterred. It also helped that his close childhood friend, George Walton, owned the joint, and after he had adjusted to the idea of his daughter dancing in a gin mill, he had gone so far as to offer his protection to the speakeasy. He tried his best to protect the joint from raids, and if a raid could not be stopped, he had agreed to warn both George and Zora so that they could avoid being apprehended by the law.

Zora exited the apartment she and her father shared and began the short walk to Walton's. At twenty-three years of age, she was more than ready to move out on her own. Her father liked having her close, as it had been just the two of them since she was two years old, but her desire to be independent had grown stronger in recent years. Her job at Walton's gave her the means to save up the money she needed for a place of her own. She was close to having the money she needed for a deposit on a place, and assuming business at Walton's remained steady, affording rent should be doable as well. She wouldn't be able to afford anything nice or large, but a place all to herself sounded like heaven.

She reached Walton's ten minutes later and entered the joint through the back door as she always did. Though she did her makeup and hair at home, she always changed into her dancer's get up at work. The outfit was far from appropriate for street wear, as it revealed plentiful skin and was decked out in sequins and feathers. Walton's was small compared to many of the more popular juice joints, and their clientele usually consisted of the same thirty or so regulars, but they still offered live music and three dancers each night. Zora was a real Oliver Twist when it came to dancing, and though the job didn't pay all that well, she still had fun on every shift.

As Zora entered the club, she noticed George and his usual bartender, Cecil, talking at the end of the bar with gloomy expressions on their faces. She frowned and made her way over to them. George greeted her with a nod.

"No work tonight, sunshine," he said.

"What? Why?" Zora asked. She needed the money from tonight's shift.

"Shipment didn't make it," George explained. "Got apprehended by some of those fellas in the KKK. Without the hooch, we can't open."

"Says you!" Zora exclaimed incredulously. This was the third time their shipment of booze had been swindled by the KKK in the past few months. They had been steadfast supporters of the Anti-Saloon League and Prohibition, and now they had taken it upon themselves to root out bootleggers and speakeasies and confiscate their booze. They were becoming a force to be reckoned with.

"That ain't even the worst of it," George continued. "Our driver, y'know Larson? They tarred and feathered him."

Zora's jaw dropped at the news. Larson was a good man, and he certainly didn't deserve what had been done to him.

"This is gettin' ridiculous," Cecil sighed. "They're learnin' to recognize our drivers. This shit will put us out of business, and it makes us all look like saps."

"What about other contacts?" Zora asked. "Know anyone else who can bring in some hooch?"

George shook his head. "We've been getting supplied by the same moonshiners since day one. And I'm not about to bring in any gangsters. Too violent. We don't wanna get caught up in that."

There were two hot-shot gangsters who continuously warred for territory in Atlanta: Ricky Cazzola and Tom Cermak. The two were frequently stealing shipments of booze from one another in an effort to take over the other's business, and their altercations were often violent. For this reason, George liked to use his own drivers and suppliers to circumvent the gangsters' operations completely. From a safety standpoint, it was a wise move, as the territory wars between the gangs seemed to be heating up as of late.

Zora bit her lip, thinking. The problem seemed to be that the KKK were easily recognizing bootleggers and smugglers. Cars filled with crates heading to the Five Points District were a definite clue. Suddenly an idea dawned on her, and a grin spread across her painted lips.

"What're you smilin' for, sunshine?" George asked with a curious frown.

"I've got it," she said. "You need a driver the KKK wouldn't suspect. Someone they'd never think would be smuggling hooch."

"Yeah, okay, so how're we gonna do that?"

"What you need," Zora proposed, "is a woman."

George's eyes narrowed. "A woman?"

"Why not? They'd never expect a woman to play such a pivotal role in the operation."

"Are you suggesting yourself for this position?" George inquired with a doubtful expression.

"Now you're on the trolley," Zora grinned, her eyes twinkling.

George shook his head. "No. No way. Your father would never allow it."

"Who says I need his permission?"

"Well, okay, he'd never forgive me. That's for sure. It was bad enough convincin' him to let you work here."

"You let me worry about Daddy," Zora sighed. "This could work, George. Think about it. You know these moonshiners, right? You've been working with them for years. Send me out to pick up the shipments. Like I said, no one would expect a woman to be doing this kinda dirty work. I bet I could make deliveries here without any troubles."

"It's too risky," George disagreed. "I can't put you in that kinda danger. Larson was tarred and feathered for Christ's sake. If they find you out, I don't know if bein' a woman is enough to stop them from hurtin' you."

"I'm not saying it isn't risky," Zora shrugged. "But it's worth a shot. And I'm ready and willing. Besides, the unfortunate truth is that you're short a driver."

George ran a hand over his weathered face, doubt still etched into his expression.

"I don't know, sunshine. It just seems like an awful lot of danger to put you in. I've watched you grow up, I don't know if I'm comfortable throwing you into all this."

"You aren't throwing me into anything," Zora countered. "I'm volunteering! I think it's a solid plan. It's worth a try. I'll strap a gun to my gam and everything. I'll take every precaution. You watched me grow up, sure. So you should know that I'm smart, and when I put my mind to something, I do it."

George heaved a sigh, knowing she was right.

"If you can convince your old man to be on board with this, then fine," he conceded. "But _only _if he gives the okay. If he says no, then that's that."

Zora's face burst into a wide smile, and she bounced a little on the balls of her feet in triumph.

"This is serious business," George warned. "These moonshiners live about an hour outside of the city. They're not bad men, but they're rough around the edges, rag-a-muffin sorta fellas. I don't know how they're gonna react to a woman being brought in. You gotta keep your wits about you and don't let them see you as weak. We want to keep this alliance with them strong. Can I count on you to do that?"

"Absolutely," Zora promised.

"Good. Now go talk to your old man. I don't want to push this plan any further till he gives the go ahead. And don't be lyin' to me about what he says neither. You know too well that I'll be checkin' with him later."

Zora grinned. "Lying won't be necessary. I'll convince him." She walked toward the back door and paused, turning on her heel. "And George? I expect to be paid better than a dancer for this."

George arched his eyebrows, but didn't argue. Zora flashed him a wink and backed out the door, letting it swing shut heavily behind her. Excitement rose in her chest as she walked quickly home. She knew her father would likely be against the idea at first, but she hoped that the persistence she had inherited from him would win out in the end. Being a dancer was fun, and she had no qualms about her current position. But to be a delivery driver, a smuggler of bootleg booze . . . it sounded so much more exciting. It was a chance to play an important role in the operation of Walton's as well, not just a decorated Sheba who entertained ossified strangers every night.

Zora's walk home ended quickly, and as she bounded up the stairs to the apartment, she realized she had no idea what she was going to say to convince her father of this idea. She took a deep breath as she entered the apartment and tried to calm her nerves.

Her father was still seated at the kitchen table where she had left him, his newspaper still spread out before him. Zora found herself hoping that he had downed more than one whiskey-laced coffee so that he would be more easygoing, but she knew she hadn't been gone long, and that was unlikely. Her father looked up when she entered and frowned in confusion.

"Not working tonight?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Shipment got stolen. KKK. And they tarred and feathered Larson."

Her father drew in a breath in a hiss. "Yikes. That's not good."

"No, it isn't," Zora agreed. She leaned against the kitchen counter. "They're figuring us out, you know. Who our drivers are. And since Walton's doesn't work with any of the gangs, they aren't intimidated."

Her father nodded. "It's a problem. Down at the station, they're seen as doing some good since they're helping to enforce the law, but I don't think it helps anything. It gives them too much power. They don't have the right to be doing what they're doing."

"Mmhm," Zora murmured. "So, listen . . . George and I, we were thinking. Well, _I _was thinking. What we need is a driver they won't suspect. Someone they'd never imagine would be smuggling hooch."

Daniel Brown frowned at his daughter. "Yes, that would be useful," he said carefully, wondering where she was going with this.

"So, I got to thinking, maybe a woman would make a good driver. They'd never suspect a woman to be doing the deliveries, and I'd be able to slip right past them—"

"Wait, _you _would be able to slip past them?" he interrupted.

"Yeah, me," Zora said. "It was my idea and I think I'd be perfect for the job."

"Absolutely not," her father declared. "Smuggling booze is dangerous. Look what happened to Larson! You do not need to be putting yourself in harm's way like that."

"Daddy, it will be fine," Zora said firmly. "George knows the moonshiners pretty well; he's been working with them for years now. And like I said, the KKK would never suspect a woman to be doing the smuggling. I think it's a perfect plan."

"And I think you're being short-sighted. There are so many things that could go wrong with this plan. I can't condone this."

"I'm not a helpless little girl anymore," Zora snapped, suddenly feeling angry. "I can take care of myself."

"Okay, well, dangers aside, did you stop to think about how illegal this is? About what position this puts me in? You dancing in a juice joint is one thing, but you smuggling hooch is another. You're putting my duties as an officer of the law on the line—"

"Your duties?" Zora cut him off. "You're just as much of a scofflaw as the rest of them. You partake in the illegal booze, too. So don't tell me this is about your duties as a police officer, because that's bushwa."

"Zora, would you just stop and think about this? About what you're getting yourself into?"

"I'm well aware. And I don't need your approval or your permission," she lied, even though she knew George would back her father up if he refused to consent. "I'm gonna do it with or without your support. So if you wanna pinch me for smuggling hooch, go ahead. I dare you."

Her eyes flashed with passion, and her father studied her through narrowed eyes. Finally, she saw his face fall with resignation. He knew his daughter, and he knew how determined she was when she wanted something. He didn't want to be a pushover, but he realized he couldn't win.

"Fine," he spat, feeling defeated. "But I want to talk to George about this. You're gonna need my protection if you're gonna do this, and I want to know all there is to know about these moonshiners."

Zora's anger vanished and her face lit up.

"Thank you, Daddy," she smiled. "You won't regret it."

_Maybe not yet, _Daniel Brown thought as his daughter happily bounded away to her room. _But someday, I might regret this with everything I have._

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><p><strong>Daryl will make his debut in the next chapter, which is why I will be posting chapter two later today! Keep an eye out for it and let me know what you think so far!<br>**


	2. Chapter 2

**As promised, here is chapter 2! Please review and let me know what you think. :)  
><strong>

**On a side note, I've decided I will include the date at the start of every chapter. I think it will help to make the passage of time clearer.**

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><p><strong>June 5, 1925 <strong>

**Nine Months Later**

"Thanks, sunshine!" George grinned as Cecil unloaded the last box of wine from Zora's four-door Model T. Her backseat had been stacked high with crates of wine and tequila, a blanket thrown over the crates to disguise what was beneath them.

"I can't stay long," Zora said. "I've got another delivery later today. Gotta head out to the moonshiners to pick it up."

"Ah," George said. "Is Frankie goin' with you?"

Zora shook her head. "He's pretty sick. Can't come today."

George frowned. "You sure you're all right going by yourself?"

Zora raised her knee-length skirt to display a handgun strapped to her thigh.

"I think I can handle it."

"Well, be careful," George cautioned, his expression still worried. Normally Frankie, a young Italian man in his mid-20s, would accompany Zora on her trips out to the country for moonshine. Despite the fact that George had been doing business with the moonshiners for quite some time, he and her father still felt that she needed an escort when picking up a shipment. Frankie would ride out with her to the country, and she would drop him off at home once she entered the city limits. She made her deliveries in the Five Points neighborhood alone to avoid drawing the attention of the KKK. When Zora had learned of Frankie's illness earlier that day, however, she decided that she was more than capable of picking up the shipment by herself. After all, she had been smuggling the moonshine successfully for almost a year now.

In fact, her business had expanded exponentially since its inception. Zora now distributed bootleg liquor to four speakeasies: three of equal size to Walton's, and one small hole-in-the-wall joint. Her supply of hooch had also expanded; in addition to the moonshiners George had been in business with, she also delivered wine and tequila that had been smuggled in from Mexico. The hooch from Mexico was brought in to the States via boat, where it was then stashed onto a train and shipped north.

This particular source had surprisingly come into Zora's hands by way of her father. When the smuggling train conductor had been apprehended by her father, he had given him the option of going to jail or selling his loot to Zora, with as much protection from the law as he could offer. The choice was a clear one, and for the past three months, he had been delivering Mexican wine and tequila to Zora on a bimonthly basis. She had picked up a shipment earlier that day and had just dropped it off for storage at Walton's. A trip out into the country for an order of moonshine was now in order.

"I'll see you later," Zora said, giving George a confident smile over her shoulder as she left Walton's. She climbed into her car and began the hour-long drive out of the city.

At first, the long drives bored her. But now, she found herself looking forward to the peace and quiet they offered. Frankie never talked much, so his absence was hardly noticed now as she made her way out of the Atlanta city limits. Her life had become quite busy in the past nine months, and the city was just as busy and loud as it always was. She had been making very decent money with her new position, and she had moved out into a spacious apartment of her own. The apartment was on the third floor of the building that was next door to Walton's, which worked in her favor for deliveries. Her car being parked behind the building never looked out of the ordinary. The apartment was also only a ten-minute walk from her father's apartment. He had finally come around and accepted her new way of life, but it had taken several months for him to do so.

Zora sighed contentedly as she drove further out into the country. It was already early evening, and the sun was casting a golden glow on the peaceful surroundings. City life was busy and exciting, but the country always seemed relaxed and easygoing. Before long, Zora's hour-long solitary drive had ended as she pulled up to the moonshiners' farm. She pulled the Model T into the barn as she always did, and two men slid the doors closed behind her. She climbed out of the vehicle to see Louis, the moonshiners' leader, smiling at her.

"Evening, Zora," he greeted.

"Evening, Louis."

"No Frankie today?" he frowned as the two men who had closed the barn door began loading crates of moonshine into Zora's backseat. Zora recognized one, but not the other. He was quite young, possibly still in his teens. She found herself wondering how someone so young had gotten involved in bootlegging, but decided not to think on it. Life in the country was much different from life in the city.

"He's sick," she shook her head. "But the show had to go on without him."

"Guess so," he said. "You sure you're okay drivin' back by yourself?"

"Of course," Zora replied, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. She turned and reached into the passenger seat to grab the bag of cash to pay for the shipment. She handed the bag to Louis with a smile.

"As always, pleasure doing business with you," she said.

"Likewise," Louis replied with a smile.

Zora climbed back in the car as Louis's two lackeys slid the barn doors back open. She backed out of the barn and turned around, heading back the way she had come. The sun was starting to set and she still had an hour drive to get back into the city. The delivery was for a joint called the Peachtree Tavern. It was only slightly bigger than Walton's. The owner, James, was an all right fellow, but he had a short temper when Zora's deliveries were late.

Zora had only made it about ten miles before she saw two cars blocking the road up ahead. She frowned. It was rare to see other vehicles out in the country like this, and she found herself becoming concerned by the blockage. What if the KKK was on to her and this was their way of apprehending her? She didn't think it was likely, but the thought still crossed her mind. She slowed to a stop, her hand wavering over the gun strapped to her thigh. There were three young men standing outside the vehicles that were blocking the road. They looked young enough to be teenagers. Before she had time to react, one of them pulled a tommy gun from one of the cars and pointed it at her through the windshield.

"Get out of the car," one of them ordered, holding a handgun that was now trained on Zora through her open window.

"What's this all about?" she asked.

"Ain't your place to be askin' questions," the boy with the tommy gun shouted.

"Okay, okay," she murmured. She opened the car door and exited slowly. She cursed herself for coming out here alone without Frankie. Two of the teenagers held their guns pointed in her direction, while the third boy went around and opened her back door, throwing back the blankets to expose the crates of moonshine.

"It's all here like he said it would be," he called to his comrades. Zora suddenly put two and two together. These boys looked to be the same age as the teenager in Louis's barn. It seemed as though he had tipped off his friends so that they could hijack her shipment. The thought made her angry, and before she could put much thought into what she was doing, she reached for the gun strapped to her thigh.

The boy holding the handgun saw the movement and swung the handgun at her, hitting her hard across the mouth with the butt of the gun. Zora could taste blood instantly. She felt the boy reaching for her gun and she tried in vain to kick him away. The butt of the gun hit her across the face again, bringing searing pain to her cheekbone where it had struck. The boy had managed to seize her gun, leaving her unarmed and defenseless. She looked up at her attackers and tried not to look as weak as she felt.

"What're you gonna do?" she asked them. "Bump me off for a little moonshine?"

"Maybe, so you better watch your mouth!" one of the teens snarled at her.

"So you got some guns and you think you're tough," Zora sneered. "I'd be careful if I were you. If you bump me off, you're gonna have to go on the lam. My daddy has been a sergeant for the Atlanta police department for twenty years, and he knows I'm out here tonight. You wouldn't make it far before he got you and pinched you for murder."

The boys looked uneasy and glanced between one another.

"She's lying," one of them said.

"Am I? Go ask Louis, your friend's boss. He and my daddy have a special arrangement to protect his still from being raided. I'm sure he'd be happy to confirm that it's true."

"What if she's tellin' the truth?" one boy said. "I ain't goin' to jail for this."

"Let's just take her loot and leave her," another suggested. The boys seemed to agree with this idea, and the boy with the handgun nudged her off to the side of the road.

"Just in case you're tellin' the truth, we're gonna let you live," he sneered at her. "But we're takin' your hooch and your car."

"My car?" Zora exclaimed incredulously. "You can't just leave me out here in the middle of nowhere!"

The boy snickered. "Watch us."

Zora watched with widened eyes and a slackened jaw as all three boys climbed into one car each and drove away, leaving her stranded. She let out a scream of frustration and kicked the ground. The sun was starting to drop below the horizon. Not only had she lost the shipment for the Peachtree Tavern, and therefore, the money it took to purchase it, but she had also lost her car. The moonshine still was at least ten miles away, and she wasn't sure how far it was until the next semblance of civilization. She racked her brain and recalled that there was a small general store about fifteen miles from the still. That meant it had to be about five miles away. Even though she was wearing a dress and heels, Zora resigned herself to walking. With a frustrated groan, she began walking down the gravel country road in the direction of the store.

How could she have been so stupid? She never should have come without Frankie. She knew the teenage boys likely would not have attempted to rob her if she hadn't been alone. She was dreading George's and her father's reactions when they found out. They would be furious, but also angry with her for deciding to come alone.

As the sun set, sending the country around her into darkness, she also began to feel afraid. The moonlight illuminated some of her surroundings, but she still felt vulnerable. As she walked on, time felt as though it were dragging by. She had no idea how far she had come, but her feet ached and felt as though she had been walking for miles. Feeling defeated, she trudged on, until suddenly she noticed a house that was slightly off the road. She paused, looking at the house that appeared to be mostly dark inside. She saw a truck parked in front of a large shed, and her hopeful side got the better of her. Maybe the owner of the truck would be able to give her a ride the rest of the way to the general store. She knew approaching the unknown house wasn't the safest idea, but the blisters on her feet influenced her decision. She sighed resolutely and made her way toward the house.

The house was old and plain, and the porch creaked noisily under her weight as she approached the front door. She took a deep breath and knocked loudly. Nothing stirred inside. Zora waited a few moments before knocking again. Still nothing. She gave an irritated huff and peered in the windows, but the house was dark. She walked off the porch and made her way around to the back of the house. The house seemed dark and still here, too, but she stood on her tiptoes and pressed her face to the glass, hoping to see any sign of occupants inside.

Suddenly, she heard the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked behind her.

"Lookin' for somethin'?" a low gravelly voice asked.

"Easy, fella," she said, slowly turning around with her hands raised. "I don't want any trouble."

She was faced with the barrel of an older model Winchester hunting rifle. Its owner appeared to be a scruffy-looking man in his late 30s or early 40s. He was dirty and had two dead rabbits tied to a rope slung over his shoulder. Even in the moonlight, Zora could see his blue eyes contrasting with the grime on his face. He was examining her, observing her heeled shoes and knee-length dress. His piercing stare softened a bit when he noticed her bloody lip and swollen cheekbone. He lowered the rifle, his eyes continuing to scrutinize her.

"What're you doin' out here?" he asked her gruffly.

Zora wasn't sure how to respond. "Some teenagers stole my car," she said carefully, deciding that was the best response. "Say, you got a telephone I can use?"

"Do I look like the kinda fella who has a telephone?" the stranger growled. "Ain't even got electricity out here."

"Oh," Zora murmured, feeling stupid.

"You ain't from around these parts, are you?"

She shook her head. "I live in the city. In Atlanta."

"I can tell," he said, giving her another once over. "You don't look like anybody around here."

"There's a general store nearby, isn't there?" Zora asked. The man nodded.

"Bout two miles down the road."

"Is there any way I could persuade you to drive me there? I know it isn't far, and I could walk it, but my feet hurt . . ."

The man stared at her like she was stupid.

"They're closed," he grunted. "They don't stay open past dark."

Zora couldn't stop her despairing groan. She felt tears of frustration begin to prick her eyes, and she blinked them away furiously. The man was staring at her with an uncomfortable expression on his face. Zora took a deep breath and tried not to look so pathetic.

"I'm sorry. It's just been a rough evening," she sighed. "I'm stranded out here and I don't know what to do."

The man sighed and ran a hand over the back of his neck.

"Look, you don't know me, but you're welcome to stay here for the night. I won't hurt you or nothin', and in the morning, I'll take you to the store after they open."

Zora knew she didn't have any other options, aside from walking all night in hopes that she would make it into the city by morning. This man wasn't the friendliest person, but he had offered her a place to stay when he didn't have to. She decided to take the risk and nodded slowly.

"Thank you," she murmured. "That would be wonderful."

The man extended his hand to her. "I'm Daryl. Daryl Dixon."

Zora took his hand and shook it lightly. "Pleased to meet you, Daryl. I'm Zora Brown."


	3. Chapter 3

**June 5, 1925**

The inside of Daryl Dixon's house was as simple as the outside. He lit several gas lanterns and a fire in the fireplace in the living room, and the flames brought a warm golden glow to the house. Zora had become accustomed to the bright lights made possible by electricity, and she found the soft firelight almost charming.

Daryl had offered her dinner, which she graciously accepted, only then realizing how hungry she actually was. She excused herself to the washroom, grabbing a lantern to take with her as Daryl began skinning and gutting the two rabbits he had caught that evening. She didn't want to be present for the butchery that was currently underway in the kitchen. It made her feel squeamish, and she wanted to clean herself up anyway.

The washroom was small and cramped. Zora set the lantern down on the counter and looked at her reflection in the dirty old mirror. Her cheek was swollen and bruised, and her lip had been broken open by the impact of the butt of the handgun. She definitely looked a little worse for wear. She turned on the tap and used the cold water to wipe the dried blood away. Her father and George would be beyond upset when they saw her wounds. They were a bold reminder to herself as well that she shouldn't get ahead of herself in this business. Nine months without an incident had quickly changed, and it was because of her own stupidity throwing caution to the wind. She couldn't let it happen again.

Zora forced a smile at her reflection, the movement feeling stiff and unnatural. She tried to make herself appear copacetic and as normal as possible before grabbing the lantern and making her way back into the kitchen, where Daryl had thankfully finished butchering the rabbits. He was frying the meat in a heavy skillet over the wood stove in the kitchen, and a pot of potatoes were boiling atop the stove as well. Despite the gruesome image of Daryl skinning the rabbits, the meat smelled wonderful as it sizzled in the pan.

"Got anything to drink?" she asked. Daryl grunted in reply, reaching into one of the kitchen cabinets and pulling out a glass with a nod toward the sink. Zora tentatively took the glass from him and filled it with water, sipping cautiously. She studied him as he worked, but he seemed indifferent to her stare. He was definitely rough around the edges, but despite the dirt and grime and unkempt stubble across his face, he was attractive in a ruggedly handsome sort of way. He glanced up and met her gaze with a frown, and Zora quickly averted her eyes. She sighed, hopelessly wishing for a drink that wasn't water. She glanced back to Daryl and decided to take a chance. He didn't seem like a tee-totaler; if anything, he seemed the opposite.

"Got anything stronger to drink?" she asked.

He stopped and frowned at her, studying her as if trying to figure her out. After a few moments, he shrugged.

"Moonshine. But that's it. Nothin' you'd like."

Zora's face lit up. "No, that would be perfect."

Daryl studied her again in surprise. He bent down and opened one of the lower kitchen cabinets and pulled out a jar of clear liquid. He scooted the jar toward her on the counter and watched her with doubtful eyes as she gave herself a hefty pour. Zora lifted the glass to her lips and took a sip, almost sighing in relief as the familiar burn made its way down her throat. However, she didn't feel like she had swallowed nothing but gasoline (a taste she had become quite accustomed to working at Walton's). The burn was still there, but there was something else, too. A delicate kind of flavor that she hadn't tasted in moonshine before. She took another sip, trying to decipher what it was.

"That's . . ." she trailed off, looking for the right word.

"Nasty?" Daryl offered. "I told you I don't have nothin' you'd like."

"On the contrary," Zora said. "This is actually quite good. There's a flavor in here I can't quite put my finger on, but it's wonderful."

"You slay me," Daryl scoffed.

"I'm not joking!" Zora took another sip. "This is different than any moonshine I've ever had. It actually has some complexity to the flavor. There's something here besides just the usual burn."

Daryl narrowed his eyes at her, not convinced that she wasn't pulling his leg.

"It's a family recipe," he muttered. "We been makin' it this way for decades."

"So this special flavor I'm detecting is a secret then?" Zora asked with a sly smile.

Daryl grunted in reply, turning back to the food cooking on the stove. His eyes kept wandering back to Zora, almost suspiciously. She caught his gaze and huffed in mild annoyance.

"What?"

"How'd someone like you get to know about moonshine?" he asked.

She sighed. "I might as well be on the level with you. I work for a speakeasy. It's called Walton's Moonshine & Wine. I've had my fair share of shine," she said, deciding to tell him the partial truth. His eyebrows arched at her statement, but he said nothing. He grabbed two plates and began dishing food onto each of them, handing her a plate full of rabbit and potatoes. She took it graciously and followed him to the kitchen table with her glass of moonshine in hand, now half empty.

"Thanks for cooking," she said politely. Daryl nodded once and dug in, and Zora began delicately eating her own food. It was good. Surprisingly good. She took another sip of moonshine and felt the strength of the liquor numbing her and giving her body the buzz she had needed.

"You live here alone?" she asked Daryl.

He nodded. "Used to live with my brother, Merle. But he got locked up in the big house, so it's just me now."

"Locked up for what?" Zora shamelessly asked.

"He robbed a store in the next town over and shot the shopkeep."

"Oh." Zora turned back to her meal, wondering if she shouldn't have asked. She wondered if staying here was such a good idea, knowing what people out here were capable of. Daryl seemed to sense her discomfort.

"I ain't like my brother," he said. "Least not like that. Biggest crime I ever commit is makin' moonshine."

Zora flashed him a smile, but it felt stiff. She took another sip of the moonshine and let it warm her further, forcing her doubts out of her mind. Daryl didn't seem dangerous, but outward impressions weren't everything. They continued eating in awkward silence until the moonshine pushed Zora to be bold once more.

"How much moonshine do you make out here?"

Daryl's eyes narrowed as he considered her question. "Enough," he answered vaguely. "Got a still in the shed. It's a decent size, but it's old. It does the trick, though."

Zora took another sip of the moonshine, her glass now almost empty. Her body felt like it was humming, and her limbs felt loose and relaxed. It was exactly what she had needed after the evening's events.

"You ever sell your moonshine?" she asked.

Daryl shook his head. "Not really. Just to some neighbors round these parts."

"You could make some major dough with this stuff," she observed. "Quality moonshine is hard to come by."

Daryl grunted in response. He finished the food on his plate and turned his eyes back to her, his gaze studying her as he had often been doing.

"What do you do for this speakeasy you work for?" he asked. "You seem to know more 'bout this stuff than a woman should."

Zora ignored his remark about her gender and eyed him coyly. She knew she shouldn't spill the beans on her operation, but part of her wanted to. It was clear that Daryl Dixon didn't know much about city girls, especially flappers like herself, and she found herself wanting to put him in his place.

"If I tell you, you promise not to tell anyone?" she said, leaning forward. Daryl arched an eyebrow and shrugged.

"Yeah, okay. Sure."

"I smuggle hooch and deliver it to a couple of gin mills in the city."

Daryl's expression turned incredulous.

"That right?" he said doubtfully. "You screwy or somethin'? Why would I believe that?"

"Why wouldn't you?" Zora countered. "You wanna know why I'm out here, no car and all beat up? I was picking up an order of shine and some teenagers pulled guns on me and jacked it. They took my car and left me on the side of the road. If it hadn't been for you, I would still be walking back to Atlanta!"

"But you're . . ."

"I'm what? A woman?" Zora hissed. "Being a woman isn't like it used to be. We can do a lot of the stuff men do, and sometimes, we do it better than the men."

Daryl snorted. "Clearly not smuggling, considering you were just robbed by teenagers."

"Hey, that's not fair," Zora whined. "I've been doing this for almost a year and this is the first time anything's gotten balled up."

Daryl shook his head at her in disbelief. She stared back at him defiantly and downed the last drops of moonshine in her glass. Times were certainly changing if women could be bootleggers. Daryl hadn't had much interaction with women in the past several years; he mostly kept to himself now that Merle was locked up. He'd heard talk of the way young women were behaving these days, but Zora Brown was his first encounter with such a woman. She was a bearcat, and she was throwing him for a loop.

"Show me your still," Zora demanded suddenly, standing from the table and swaying a bit. She steadied herself and eyed him expectantly. Daryl sighed and stood from the table. He grabbed one of the lanterns and led her out the back door and into the night. She followed him to the shed that the truck was parked in front of. He opened the door and held it for her with the lantern held high. She squeezed past him, catching his scent of sweat and earth as she passed by him.

The light from the lantern illuminated a large copper still. It had clearly seen better days and had been in use for quite some time, but it was a decent size, and clearly well made. She pressed a hand to the cool metal and turned back to face Daryl.

"Impressive," she said with a grin. He shrugged.

"I guess."

She glanced around the shed and noticed several crates in the corner. Before she could stop herself, she hurried over to them, examining their contents. Jars of moonshine. Lots of them.

"Would you ever consider selling some of your shine to me?" she asked bluntly.

Daryl looked startled by her question. He narrowed his eyes at her and moved closer, the light from the lantern illuminating more of the jars in the crates.

"Don't look like you got any money on you," he grunted.

"Well, no," Zora agreed a little sheepishly. "But I have it! At my apartment in the city. I can get it to you."

Daryl scoffed. "I'm not about to go sellin' anything to you without the money in front of me. I just met you. I got no reason to trust you."

"That's fair," Zora nodded. "But I could give you good money for all this. And I guarantee that the folks I supply will love it just as much as I do."

"Praisin' the recipe ain't gonna help you any."

"What else are you gonna do with all this?" she asked. "Let it sit out here forever?"

"Merle—my brother—used to make big batches. We just sip on 'em for a while. This'll last me a long while."

"Oh, please, you are not going to drink all this yourself," Zora argued with an eye roll.

Daryl was amused by her tenacity. He decided to humor her.

"Okay then. How much would you give me?"

She picked up one of the large jars as if determining its weight and value. "Couple of clams per jar. And you got a lot of jars, so that's some pretty decent cabbage."

"How do I know you're good for it?"

"If you're really interested, you could drive me home tomorrow. I'll show you the money before you give me the goods. And I'll give you money for gas. With that hayburner you've got parked out there, you'll need it."

Daryl sighed, considering the offer. To be honest, he had no real source of income. He and Merle had been living off of a pretty meager inheritance from their father, the only good thing the man had ever done for his sons. Daryl didn't need much; he hunted and grew his own food, stilled his own whiskey, and had his own well for water. But the inheritance money had started to run out. A little extra dough definitely wouldn't hurt, and Zora was right about the moonshine sitting forgotten in the shed. Finally, he nodded.

"Fine. You got yourself a deal."

She let out a little triumphant yelp and bounded forward to shake his hand.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Dixon."

He managed a half smile and shook her hand.

"C'mon," he said, turning to exit the shed. "We better get some sleep. You can have Merle's old room. Sheets are clean, but no one's been in there for a while. Probably be dusty."

"A little dust won't kill me," Zora grinned. She followed him into the house, and he led her up the stairs and pointed to a closed door.

"This is you," he said, handing her the lantern. "I'm across the hall if you need me."

He entered his own room and lit another lantern. He moved to close the door and saw Zora standing in the doorway of Merle's room about to do the same.

"Goodnight, Daryl," she said softly.

"Goodnight, Zora," he replied, closing the door.

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><p><strong>Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Reviews are always appreciated! ;)<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you to those of you who have reviewed thus far! I'm glad you are enjoying the story! :)**

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><p><strong>June 6, 1925<strong>

Daryl loaded the last crate of moonshine into the bed of his truck and threw a ratty blanket over the crates to disguise them. Zora was watching him from the porch. She looked as though she had seen better days. Her makeup from the day before was now smudged around her eyes, and her cheek and lip were swollen and bruised from her altercation with the boys who had robbed her. Despite her disheveled state, Daryl couldn't help noticing how the sunlight shone in her blonde hair, and he scolded himself for finding her attractive.

"Ready to go?" he called to her. She nodded and made her way over to him. He awkwardly wondered if he should open the car door for her, but decided that seemed silly and walked over to the driver's side. She climbed in the truck beside him.

"Do you know how to get to Atlanta from here?" she asked.

"It's been a while since I've been to the city, but I remember."

Zora nodded and turned her attention to the surroundings outside the window as he pulled out of the drive and down the road. Daryl had woken her with breakfast: potato pancakes made from the previous night's leftovers, toast, and a single egg. He had also made coffee, but despite the caffeine, she still felt groggy, probably due to the moonshine she had consumed the night before. Her cheek had turned a nasty shade of purple, and her lip was quite swollen and split. She was dreading the reactions she would get from her father and George. But she tried to focus on the positives: even though she had lost a shipment, she had managed to procure an even better quality replacement. The car situation was still a problem, but Zora hoped that she would be able to borrow George's car until she could come up with the money for a replacement.

The drive from Daryl's house into Atlanta took about forty minutes. Zora directed him to the Five Points neighborhood, and soon they were parked behind Walton's. Zora took a deep breath and turned to Daryl before exiting the truck.

"George, the owner of this place, is probably going to freak when he sees my face," she said, her anxiety prevalent in her tone. "But he's a great guy, and he's known me since I was a baby. He's very protective of me."

"He ain't gonna think I did this to you, is he?" Daryl asked apprehensively.

"No! No, I'll tell him what happened. And you don't need to stick around for that, either. We can unload the moonshine in Walton's and I'll find a way to deliver it tonight."

Daryl nodded and followed Zora's lead out of the truck and in through the back door of the joint. A man looked up from where he appeared to be deep in an accounting book at the bar, and his expression turned to shock upon seeing Zora's face.

"Zora! What on Earth—"

"I'm fine, George," Zora said, holding up a hand.

"What happened to you?" George demanded, standing from his seat and hurrying over to her.

"Picked up an order last night, and some teenage punks stopped me at gunpoint about 10 miles out from the still. Robbed me blind. Took my car and everything. That's how this happened," she explained, pointing to her face. She turned to Daryl. "This is Daryl Dixon. After walking for a couple of miles, I came across his house and he was kind enough to let me stay the night. He drove me here."

George turned his attention to the rough-looking man next to Zora. He looked uncomfortable and unsure what to do with himself.

"That's mighty kind of you," George said. "Thanks for takin' care of her."

Daryl shrugged awkwardly. "Weren't nothin'."

"Listen, George," Zora started, "Daryl here actually makes moonshine. Amazing moonshine at that. Better than any I've ever tasted. And he's been so kind as to sell me what he had on hand. Would you mind if I stored it here until I get my car situation sorted out? I'll need to take most of it to Peachtree Tavern later since it was their order that got jacked."

George gave Daryl a once over before nodding his head. "That's okay by me."

"Thanks. I'm gonna take him upstairs and get him his money so he can be on his way."

George nodded and Zora turned to lead Daryl back outside.

"Nice meetin' you," Daryl called to George as they exited. He followed Zora through another back door in the building next door and up two flights of stairs. She peeled a doormat up off the floor and retrieved a key that had been hidden underneath.

"Good thing I keep a spare here," she said as she unlocked and opened the door. "My purse was in the car that got stolen."

Daryl followed her inside. The apartment was spacious and clean. It had a small kitchen, but the living room was large and well-decorated. Daryl felt out of place in such a tidy room, and he was suddenly conscious of the dried mud caked on his boots.

"You live here alone?" he asked her.

"Mhm," she hummed over her shoulder as she made her way into the kitchen and rummaged through the cabinets. Daryl was surprised that she could afford such a place on her own, but considering her profession, maybe it wasn't so surprising after all. He watched her rip open a bag of flour, but saw that it actually contained a large sum of cash. She counted out a good portion of it and shoved the rest back in the flour bag.

"Count that and make sure it's right. There's money for gas, too," she said as she handed the stack of bills to him. He shrugged and shoved the cash into his pocket without counting it. Zora arched an eyebrow at him and motioned for him to follow her back downstairs.

"We'll just put the crates inside and you can forget this mess," she said with a forced laugh. Daryl gave her a half smile and a nod. He made his way over to the truck bed and grabbed a crate to begin unloading. Zora went back into Walton's and emerged with George, who helped unload the crates. Before long, all were stashed safely inside.

"Thanks again for what you did for Zora," George said. He held out his hand for Daryl to shake. Daryl shook it and George went back inside. Zora turned to him with an awkward smile on her face.

"Well, I guess this is it then," she said. "Thank you. For everything."

"Don't mention it," Daryl shrugged.

"I wish you all the best," Zora said with a smile. Daryl nodded awkwardly.

"Yeah. You too. Take care."

Zora watched as he climbed back in the old truck, the engine roaring to life. She sighed as the truck drove away and vanished from sight. Daryl Dixon was a good man, and she hoped that their paths would cross again.

She made her way back into Walton's to find George observing the crates of moonshine before them. Zora grabbed a jar from one of the crates and walked behind the bar. She placed two glasses on the bar and poured a little shine in each, sliding one of the glasses toward George. He took it and hesitantly took a sip, his eyes widening a little as the liquid burned its way down his throat.

"Damn," he muttered. "Good stuff."

"Told you," Zora grinned, taking a sip from her own glass.

"He may be a bit of a reuben, but he definitely knows what he's doing."

"Says it's a family recipe," Zora shrugged. She quickly downed the rest of the shine in her glass. "Now, could you do me a favor? Actually, two favors?"

"Depends on what you need," George replied with a playful smirk.

"Can I borrow your car to take a delivery to Peachtree? James is gonna be furious with me for not delivering on time last night."

"Yeah, sure, okay."

"And while I'm doing that, can you call Louis and get to the bottom of what happened last night? I think one of his new lackeys was behind it. A teenage kid. He looked to be about the same age as the ones who robbed me. And one of them said something . . . something like, 'It's here like he said it'd be.' Like someone had given them the heads up that I'd be coming that way with hooch."

"Course I'll call Louis. I'll get to the bottom of this. But on one condition," George said. Zora arched an eyebrow in response. "Go see your father. I'm not gonna be the one to explain this to him."

Zora sighed heavily. "Fine." She may as well get it over with. "I'm gonna go upstairs and clean myself up. I'll come get your keys when I'm ready."

George nodded and took another swig of the moonshine. She made her way back outside and up to her apartment. She closed the door behind her and sighed, enjoying the silence. Even though she had actually slept quite well in Merle's dusty old room, she still felt completely beat. She moseyed into the bathroom and began filling the bathtub with the hottest water she could stand. She went to the sink and washed the previous day's makeup off her face, noticing that some dried blood came with it. Zora hoped that she would be able to cover most of the wounds with fresh make up, but she knew it wouldn't fool her father.

She undressed and turned off the taps of the tub, stepping gingerly into the steaming hot water. She sighed as she eased herself into it. The heat from the water relaxed her muscles and made her feel drowsy, but the feeling was like heaven. As she relaxed, her mind drifted to Daryl. He was the exact opposite of the men she usually associated with, most of them being young drugstore cowboys who loved going out on the town and breaking the rules. Daryl was different. Not only was he much older than she, but he also lived in a completely different world. He lived a quiet life in the country and supported his own needs, which she found admirable. She smiled to herself as she recalled his reaction to many of the things she had said the night before. He obviously hadn't had much experience with young women from the city, and she had enjoyed shocking him with her behavior. And she enjoyed the way his blue eyes had studied her time and time again, as if she were a complicated mathematical equation he was trying to solve.

She shook her head and told herself to put Daryl Dixon out of her mind. They would probably never see each other again, and there was no use thinking on him now. Zora grabbed a bar of soap and set about determinedly washing, trying to forget the handsomely rugged stranger who was plaguing her thoughts.

* * *

><p>Zora resisted the urge to roll her eyes as her father continued to yell at her.<p>

"How could you have been such a dumb Dora?" he demanded. "If you had taken Frankie with you, none of this would have happened."

"I know," Zora replied in an exasperated tone. "You don't think I've been kicking myself over that since it happened?"

"You never should have gotten involved in this business. It's too dangerous."

"I think you're overreacting," Zora sighed. "Besides, everything has been taken care of! And I got some extra product out of it, so I'd say it isn't half as bad as you're making it out to be."

George had talked to Louis from the moonshine still earlier in the day, and less than an hour later, Louis had called George back to inform him that the situation had been dealt with, and someone would be returning Zora's car and moonshine the next day. Neither George nor Zora had bothered to ask how Louis had dealt with the problem, but they knew it probably hadn't been pretty. Zora had delivered Daryl's moonshine to the Peachtree Tavern as well, and the joint's owner, James, had been quick to forgive her for her late delivery upon seeing her wounded face and tasting the new product she had brought him. Now she was dealing with the most difficult part of her day: talking to her father.

"You think this is all just a game? That what happened doesn't matter 'cause you ended up with more hooch than you started with? Zora, be realistic. This could have been so much worse. And it could happen again down the road, but next time, it might not be naïve teenagers."

Zora nodded. "I know. You're right. I have to be more careful."

"Damn right you do," her father nodded. "And on that note, what were you thinking spending the night at some strange man's house? This Daryl Dixon character?"

Zora's jaw dropped indignantly. "Oh, don't you dare make him the bad guy in this. He came to my aid. If it weren't for him, I would have been walking all night trying to get back home, which is a hell of a lot more dangerous than accepting his hospitality!"

Her father's mouth narrowed into a thin line and he frowned. "I suppose you're right. But what if he'd taken advantage of you?"

"He didn't. So why are you even asking that question?"

He sighed, his anger dissipating a bit. "I just worry about you. You know I'm not gonna stop you from doing . . . whatever it is young ladies are doing these days, but I don't want some ignorant reuben taking advantage of your free spirit."

"You've never even met him. I wish you wouldn't call him ignorant."

"I know, I'm sorry," he relented. "You're all I've got, and I just want you to be safe."

Zora sighed and moved to hug her father. "I will be. I'll be smarter in the future, promise."

He embraced her and decided not to pursue the argument further. He knew his daughter was smart, but she just got carried away with things sometimes. His paternal need to protect her was growing less pertinent as she got older, and he tried to come to terms with the fact that she was grown up and able to take care of herself.

"Don't worry, Daddy," she said. "Everything's ducky."

He sighed, wishing he could believe her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Happy holidays, everyone! Hope you enjoy this chapter. Please review! :)**

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><p><strong>June 13, 1925<strong>

Zora put the finishing touches of powder on her cheeks. In the past week, her facial wounds had improved drastically, but her cheekbone still showed some tinges of green and yellow from the bruising. Her makeup was able to cover the bruise decently well, and after the sun set, it was no longer visible to the eye, even with the bright lights of the city.

Louis had returned her car and moonshine to her himself a week prior, and he had apologized profusely for the caper that had been caused by one of his new employees. He had assured her that the boy had been severely punished (again, Zora didn't inquire as to the nature of the punishment), and he promised that it would never happen again. She wasn't sure whether she could trust him, but George believed it would be all right to continue doing business with him as long as she didn't go to the still alone. Besides, they didn't exactly have any other readily available suppliers.

Suddenly, the shrill ring of Zora's telephone demanded her attention. She put down her powder brush and went to the phone, picking up the receiver and holding it to her ear.

"Zora speaking," she said into the transmitter.

"Hiya, Zora," a man's voice said cheerily on the other end. "It's James from Peachtree. How ya doin'?"

"Doing great, James. What can I help you with?"

"Was wonderin' if I can place an order," he said.

"Sure thing," Zora replied. "Let me get ahold of my supplier and I can get it to you in a day or two. Same amount as usual?"

"Actually, I was wonderin' if you had any more of the last stuff you sold me. The better stuff."

Zora was silent for a moment in surprise. "Oh. Well, I don't have any on hand. That supply isn't really a steady thing."

"Oh," James said, his voice clearly disappointed. "I mean, I'll take what I can get, but that last stuff was great. Everyone really loved it."

Zora tapped her fingers on the table, thinking. "You know what, let me look into it," she said. "At the very least, I'll get you what I usually get, but I'll see what I can do about the good stuff."

"Oh, that would be jake! Thanks, darlin'!"

"I'll let you know soon. Take care, James."

She hung up the receiver and drummed her fingers on the table, chewing on her lip in thought. Obviously James's customers preferred Daryl's moonshine to her usual supply; who wouldn't? Unfortunately, she had purchased all but one crate of the shine from him, and now that supply was dry. She wondered if Daryl would ever consider making more. He probably enjoyed his quiet life in the country with nothing to worry about but himself. But what if they could come up with some sort of arrangement? Maybe he would be willing to make more shine and sell it to her as he was able. Maybe she could work something out with her customers where she had two quality tiers of shine: Louis's shine for the bottom tier and Daryl's for the top. She could charge more for Daryl's moonshine because it was much better quality. But this all depended on how willing Daryl was to enter in to such an arrangement. She wouldn't be surprised if he told her to dry up as soon as she showed up on his doorstep. But there was only one way to find out. She had to go see him and ask.

Without a second thought, she grabbed her purse and her keys and shoved her feet into a pair of low heels. She rushed out the door, down the stairs, and into her car. She hoped Daryl wouldn't be upset with her for showing up unannounced, but then again, that was how she had shown up a week ago, and that had turned out well, hadn't it? It was mid-afternoon, and as she drove toward the city limits, she hoped he would be home. She realized suddenly that she wasn't even sure what he did for a living. Her spontaneous trip out into the country suddenly seemed much less sensible, but she still kept driving.

The buildings of the city faded away to the peaceful emptiness of the country as Zora drove on. She found herself wondering if her hastiness to drive out to see Daryl was purely business-motivated. She knew that she secretly wanted to see him again, and James's request for his moonshine had given her a reason.

"No," she told herself aloud. "This trip is purely business. Nothing else."

The forty-minute drive was over before she knew it, and she pulled into the familiar driveway and parked behind Daryl's old truck. She stole a peek at herself in the rearview mirror and, deciding she looked presentable, exited the car. Zora made her way up the creaky porch and took a deep breath before knocking on the door. There was no answer. Zora raised her hand to knock again when suddenly, Daryl appeared from around the side of the house, startling her. The frown that had been in place on his face vanished and was replaced by a look of surprise.

"Zora? What are you doin' here?" he asked.

"Oh, good, you're home," she spluttered, still startled from his sudden appearance.

"Yeah, I was gettin' ready to skin a deer out back and I heard you knocking."

Zora wrinkled her nose at the mention of the deer. "Glad I got here before you started then," she said with a small laugh. Daryl arched his eyebrows at her, his question of why she was there still lingering. "Oh, right. Why I'm here. Well, I wanted to talk business with you."

His eyes narrowed a bit. "What kinda business?"

"What do you think?"

Daryl sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "You wanna come in for a coffee then?"

"All right," Zora agreed. Daryl opened the front door of the house and held it open for her. He followed her into the kitchen and began boiling water for the coffee. Zora took a seat at the kitchen table and watched him moving about, neither of them talking, until the coffee was ready. He set a steaming cup in front of her and sat down across from her at the table.

"Okay, so talk business."

Zora took a deep breath. "You might not be surprised to know that people loved your moonshine. So much so that I've been asked if I can get more."

"I already sold you pretty much all of it," Daryl said with a frown. "You know that."

Zora tentatively took a sip of the hot coffee and eyed Daryl across the table.

"What would it take for you to make more?"

Daryl exhaled slowly. "Not sure. Makin' Dixon moonshine is a decent amount of work. Almost like a science. You'd hafta make it worth my while."

Zora rolled her eyes. "Well, you already know I pay well for good product. You'd be able to make a lot of scratch doing this."

"How much shine you talkin'?"

Zora took another sip of coffee before answering. "I was hoping we could come to some sort of . . . arrangement. A partnership, if you will." Daryl arched his eyebrows at her in response. "What would you think about making a steady supply? I could come pick it up every week or two and sell it as my higher tier shine."

Daryl scoffed a bit. "That sounds like a heavy commitment. Don't know if I want to be gettin' involved to that extent."

"Why not?" Zora questioned. "You're already breaking the law by making moonshine as it is. Might as well make some good dough while you're at it."

"What if I don't got that kinda time?"

"You don't? What do you do for a living?" Zora asked. Daryl looked up at her sharply, but he was at a loss for words. He angrily brought the cup of coffee to his lips and set it down harshly on the table. Zora raised an eyebrow at him. "Look, I get it, what you do. You support yourself out here, and I think that's admirable. I sure as hell couldn't do it."

"Stop," Daryl sighed, clearly uncomfortable. "Flattery ain't gonna get you nowhere."

"It isn't flattery, it's the truth. But why not _do_ something with your life? Make something others can enjoy? Maybe it'll be fulfilling, maybe it won't, but it'll certainly pay well."

Daryl took another sip of coffee, still eying her somewhat angrily for calling him out on not having a job. He felt embarrassed, but he wasn't sure why he cared what Zora thought. The two of them lived in different worlds, and he didn't need to impress her. But somehow, her opinion mattered to him. He looked down at his hands and picked dirt out from beneath his fingernails, saying nothing.

"Besides, you said it's a family recipe," Zora continued. "Think of it as a way to honor your family, or something."

Daryl's expression darkened. "My family don't deserve no honor," he growled. "They never did anythin' for me. The shine's got nothin' to do with them."

Zora withdrew a little, surprised by his reaction to the mention of his family. "Okay, then do it for yourself," she said.

Daryl continued to stare at his hands for a few moments. "I'll think about it," he said finally. "But no promises."

Zora's face brightened. "That's all I ask. Just think about it."

Daryl nodded once. "How'd you get into this business anyway?" he asked. "If I'm gonna consider partnering with you, I gotta know how you got into it."

Zora smiled. "Friend of my daddy's—George, who you met—opened up a speakeasy about five years ago. Pretty much all my life, it's just been me and my father, but a couple years ago, I decided I wanted to move out on my own. To do that, I had to get a job. I couldn't see myself doing the regular jobs women do, like being a salesgirl or something. So I convinced George to give me a job as a dancer at Walton's."

Daryl's eyes widened. "You were a dancer?"

Zora laughed. "Why's that hard to believe? I'm a very good dancer, I'll have you know!"

Daryl smirked a little at her and resisted the urge to look her body up and down. He focused his attention on his coffee.

"Anyway, I was a dancer for a couple years, and then about a year ago, Walton's started having troubles with the KKK. They were learning to recognize our delivery drivers, and they'd intercept them, confiscate the hooch, and one time even tarred and feathered the driver. So I suggested that we use a driver they'd never suspect. A woman."

Daryl smiled a little. "And that woman is you."

She bowed her head slightly. "Indeed. I pick up the orders of moonshine from our supplier and deliver them back to Walton's. I also pick up a bimonthly shipment of Mexican wine and tequila from the train yard. Within a couple of months, I started supplying to a few other gin mills in the Five Points neighborhood. Now, I supply to four joints. I hadn't run into any trouble until last week."

"Looks like you got your car back," Daryl said. "How'd you manage that?"

"The owner of the still, Louis, took care of it. One of his boys was in on it."

Daryl frowned. "Louis? As in Louis Scardino?"

"Yes," Zora said slowly. "You know him?"

"Yeah, vaguely. He and Merle used to be buddies before Merle got locked up. He only lives about fifteen miles down the road. But I guess you know that."

Zora nodded and took a sip of her coffee. She noticed that Daryl looked a little uneasy. She frowned at him, wondering what was putting him off.

"Just . . . be careful with Louis," Daryl said suddenly. "He's an all right fella, but you don't want to get on his bad side. Trust me."

Zora looked at Daryl with widened eyes. "Is he dangerous or something?"

"Not without a reason to be," Daryl replied carefully. "But he tends to go to extremes when he's angry. Just be sure to stay on his good side and you'll be fine."

"Hmm," Zora murmured. "He has an arrangement with my father that might help keep us in his good graces."

"What kind of arrangement?"

"Suppose I have to be on the level about my father, too," Zora said. "Daddy is a sergeant for the Atlanta police department." Daryl's jaw dropped a little. "But he's against Prohibition. He's been against it since it went into effect statewide almost twenty years ago. Always votes wet, enjoys his own share of bootleg liquor, and he even offers protection to Walton's and Louis's still from raids. If a raid can't be stopped, at the very least, he has agreed to warn us so that we can get out before it happens."

"So he's a twisted bull," Daryl stated. Zora frowned.

"He's a good man. It isn't that he's twisted, he just chooses to overlook certain things. I know it sounds bad, but really, he's a great asset to have on our side."

"I guess you're right," Daryl nodded. The two of them fell silent for a few moments, just sipping their coffee. Zora could never stay silent for long, however.

"So I've told you my story," she said. "What's yours?"

"Ain't much to tell," Daryl grunted, downing the rest of his coffee. "Lived in this house since I was a boy. Mom died when I was a kid. Dad wasn't a good guy. Spent most of my life runnin' around causin' trouble with Merle. After Dad died it was just the two of us. But now that Merle's in the big house, it's just me. But that's how I like it. I take care of myself and the house, and that's all I need."

Zora was studying him as if he were fascinating, and Daryl began to feel uncomfortable. He fidgeted with his hands under her stare.

"You are like no one I've ever met," she said. Daryl laughed a little.

"I can definitely say the same thing 'bout you."

Zora flashed him a wide smile and finished the rest of her coffee. Daryl stood and gathered both cups, taking them to the sink. He paused for a moment, thinking, before turning around to face her.

"I think I'll give this partnership a try," he said. Her face lit up and she walked quickly toward him.

"Really? You mean it?"

"Yeah, why not?" Daryl said with a shrug. He held his hand out to her, and she eagerly shook it.

"Well you've made me a very happy Jane!"

"Gimme 'bout a week to make the first batch."

"A week, okay," Zora said with a smile. "I'll come back here next Saturday then to pick it up."

Daryl nodded. "Sounds swell."

Zora began chattering excitedly as she collected her things to leave. Daryl couldn't help feeling a little excited as well. It had been a while since he'd made shine, but he knew all the steps by heart. Despite his initial misgivings about the partnership, he realized he was actually quite glad she had proposed such an arrangement. Daryl didn't need much in life, but with Merle gone, this partnership would give him a sense of direction. It gave him a chance to do something on his own, without Merle, that could be quite profitable. It was a chance to make something of himself, to make something out of nothing.

As they bade each other farewell and Daryl watched Zora's car disappear down the road, he also couldn't help thinking that he was already excited to see her again in a week's time. She had shaken his world upside down, but he realized that he liked it. He sighed and shook his head at himself before wandering into the shed to tinker with the still. It was time to start making moonshine.


	6. Chapter 6

**June 14, 1925**

The jazz band was setting up on Walton's small stage as Zora entered through the back door as always. Already a small crowd of about fifteen milled around the joint. Even though it was Sunday, the live music and dancing still drew a decent crowd. Zora wove her way through the speakeasy's patrons and sought out George, who was helping Cecil set up behind the bar. She sat down atop a bar stool and flashed a smile at George and Cecil.

"Hey there, sunshine," George greeted warmly. "Can I get you a drink?"

"That would be nifty," Zora replied, sliding a few coins toward him across the bar. George waved them away and poured some tequila into a glass, followed by a splash of orange juice and a few drops of grenadine. She was perfectly capable of drinking just straight moonshine, as many of Walton's customers did, but George liked to spoil her by fixing her sweet cocktails. He slid the glass toward her across the bar and she accepted it graciously.

"What are you up to tonight?" George asked as he went back to setting up the bar.

Zora shrugged. "Not much of anything. But I do have some news."

George arched his eyebrows. "Oh?"

Zora took a sip of her cocktail. "You remember that country fella, Daryl Dixon?"

"Course I remember him," George nodded. "It was just last week that he brought you back here."

"And you remember how good his moonshine is?"

"Shine like that's hard to forget."

"Well, James from Peachtree called me yesterday asking if I can get more. At first, I told him that was a one time thing, but he sounded so disappointed that I decided to go see what could be done about it."

"And?" George pressed. A frown was beginning to emerge on his face, and Zora could tell he was both interested and concerned with where this was going.

"And Daryl and I have come up with a sort of arrangement. A partnership, more like."

"So he's agreed to sell you shine," George stated more than asked.

"Yes. I'll head out there in about a week to pick up the first order. James said people loved this stuff, and I'm sure it'll sell like crazy."

George's frown was more prominent, and Zora resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "What?" she demanded. "Why do you look so put out?"

"It ain't that I don't agree with you, sunshine," George said. "His hooch will definitely sell. But you've gone and formed a partnership with some fella you just met a week ago. You barely know him. You sure that's a safe idea?"

Zora knew George was just looking out for her, and after what had happened two weeks prior, she couldn't blame him. But she couldn't help feeling a little annoyed. Daryl Dixon may have been rough around the edges, and he wasn't the most personable fellow, but he was harmless.

"Daryl is a good man," Zora assured George. "He hasn't given me any reason to think otherwise so far. And besides, he's a one-man operation. That means I only have to trust one person. No insubordinate lackeys. Since the deal is just between me and Daryl, I don't have to worry about other people finding out what I'm up to and trying to cause trouble. It's safer for me."

George nodded slowly. "What about Louis?" he asked. "He's gonna be expectin' you to keep buyin' from him like usual, and I don't think he'll be too happy if you start gettin' your shine somewhere else."

Zora exhaled slowly and took another sip of her drink. She hadn't really thought about how buying moonshine from Daryl might affect Louis. She remembered what Daryl had said about Louis the day before. That she should be careful to stay on his good side. She decided not to tell George about Daryl's warning. It would only worry him further.

"Well, like I said, Daryl is a one-man operation. His still is quite large, but I don't know if he'd be able to keep up with my needs. I was thinking I could sell both shines and offer Daryl's as the top-tier product. I could charge more for it, and so could my customers. That way I could still buy from Louis."

"But you'll be buyin' less than you normally do," George pointed out. "Maybe he'd understand, but maybe he wouldn't. Just be careful. Make sure you don't start relying too much on Daryl's product."

Zora nodded. George was right. She had to keep her relationship with Louis as copacetic as possible. She didn't think Louis would hurt a woman, but then again, she didn't know him that well. And if Daryl's warning about him held any truth, she had to be careful. She looked up from her drink and saw George studying her, his worried demeanor vanishing a little.

"You know I'm just lookin' out for you, sunshine," he said. "I think Daryl's a good fella, and lord knows his product is outstanding. I'd love to sell it here in Walton's, too."

Zora grinned. "After I get Peachtree's order sorted out, I can talk to him about making enough to sell here, too."

The band started up suddenly, and George flashed her a wink before moving down the bar to help Cecil prepare drinks for the customers who had begun to fill up the rest of the bar stools. Zora swiveled her stool around to watch the band, sipping contentedly on her drink. Her solitude was short-lived, however, because she soon spotted her good friend Molly, who had just entered the joint. Molly noticed Zora sitting at the bar and flounced over, looking very hip to the jive in her glad rags and plentiful makeup.

"Hey there, smarty!" Molly cried as she reached Zora and pulled her in for a hug. The two girls had been close friends for many years, but Zora hadn't seen her in a few weeks. Molly was boisterous and fun, and she envied Zora's line of work. She loved getting into trouble and breaking the rules, and though Zora often told her that her business was just that—business, not a game—Molly's thrill-seeking nature made her refuse to believe otherwise.

"Where've you been?" Zora asked with a smile.

"Oh, around," Molly replied with a bit of a twinkle in her eye. "Got a new man in my life. I've been a little . . . preoccupied."

The two girls erupted into giggles, and Zora realized how much she had missed Molly.

"Well, where is the poor goof?" Zora asked. "I wanna meet him."

Molly grinned and pointed to a young fellow chatting with a few others across the room.

"His name's Charlie," she said.

"Well, are you going to introduce me?"

"Later," Molly said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "You and I have too much catching up to do!"

Molly sat down on an empty bar stool next to Zora and ordered herself a drink. Zora ordered another one for herself, and before long, her second drink turned into her third, and then her fourth. She and Molly were chatting and giggling obnoxiously, and Zora could feel the delightful looseness of her limbs increase with each sip. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth and her head was spinning.

"Why, I'm positively zozzled," she proclaimed, and Molly snickered.

"And how!" she agreed.

Before she could protest, Molly leapt off her barstool and pulled Zora to her feet. The band had started playing a very upbeat folksy jazz number, and Molly threw herself into a solo version of the black bottom. Zora joined in, her limbs flailing in time with the beat and in sync with Molly's. They twirled around each other, and despite the effects of the booze, they were still able to keep perfect time. Though Zora no longer danced for a living, it was still one of the things she loved most. She and Molly laughed gleefully as their hips swung to the beat.

"Get hot! Get hot!" someone yelled, and Zora's grin widened. It had been too long since she had just let go and danced. She let the beat guide her and lost herself in the music, feeling like it was good to be alive.

* * *

><p><strong>June 15, 1925<strong>

Zora carried the last serving dish to her father's dining room table. After sleeping away her hangover for most of the day, she had decided to pay a visit to her father and make him dinner. He had been at work until just a few moments ago, and he was delighted to come home and find the home-cooked meal and his daughter waiting for him.

He sat down at the table and Zora did the same. They had never been the type of family to say grace, so the pair of them immediately dug in. She noticed that her father had retrieved a small glass of gin and tonic from the kitchen, but she had decided not to partake. After the plentiful drinking the night before, she needed a break.

"So George tells me you have a new business arrangement," her father said after a few moments.

Zora scoffed. "Didn't take him long to spill the beans on that one."

Her father shrugged. "I had lunch with him today and it came up."

She took a few careful bites, waiting for her father to begin lecturing her. When he said nothing, she raised her eyebrows at him.

"So? You don't have anything to say about it?"

He shrugged. "George already expressed most of my concerns when he talked to you last night. I take it you'll be careful to maintain your relationship with Louis as well?"

"Yes. I figure I can work something out where Daryl's shine is my more expensive, top-tier product and Louis's shine is the regular stuff."

Her father nodded. "Good idea." He was quiet for a few moments before steering the conversation in the direction Zora knew it would go. "So tell me more about this Daryl Dixon."

Zora suppressed a sigh. "What do you wanna know?"

"What do _you _know about him? All I know is that he's a rough sorta fellow who put you up for the night and helped you out in a pinch."

She shrugged. "He lives by himself in the house he grew up in. He supports himself out there. He grows vegetables in his garden and he's a talented hunter. He doesn't seem to need much in life, and I respect that. He seems like an honest man."

"What about his family? They around?"

Zora pursed her lips. She didn't want to tell her father about Merle, but from the way he was looking at her, she realized he probably somehow already knew.

"No. Just him."

He studied her carefully, and Zora tried to avert her eyes and focus on her food.

"Well, I looked into his family down at the station today."

Zora's eyes snapped up from her meal and she glowered at her father. She knew he couldn't help himself with the resources at his disposal and that he was trying to protect her, just like George, but she couldn't help feeling like he had violated Daryl's privacy.

"So you know about his brother then," she sighed.

"Yes. I see you also know?"

"Sort of. Daryl told me he used to live with his brother, but he got locked up for . . . for shooting someone."

Her father nodded, his expression somewhat severe. "Yes. He was put away for armed robbery and attempted murder about seven months ago. The shop keeper he shot lived, but it was enough to put Merle away for fifteen years."

"Daryl says he's nothing like his brother," Zora said quickly.

Her father nodded again. "His record is clean. Not so much as a parking ticket. But then again, it sounds like he doesn't leave the country much."

Zora felt relieved that Daryl had no record. She knew he was a good man, but it was a relief to know he hadn't been lying about his lack of criminal activity.

"His father had a record, too. A couple of charges of battery and assault. It seems that violence may run in the family."

Zora blinked. She hadn't known about Daryl's father. The only details he'd told her about him was that he wasn't a good person. She wondered what it was like growing up with such a father and brother, and suddenly his gruff demeanor made more sense.

"I'm not saying that Daryl is a violent person just because his family has a history of it," her father clarified. "From what I've heard from you and George, he seems like an all right fella. But I just want you to be careful."

"Of course, Daddy," Zora agreed.

"I'd like to meet him."

"But—"

"No buts. If you're going to be doing business with this man, I want to meet him face to face."

Zora sighed, knowing her father would not let this go until he had shaken Daryl's hand.

"All right," she said in surrender. "I pick up my first order from him on Saturday. I'll ask him if he'll come to town."

Her father nodded, seeming satisfied with her reply.

"Good," he said. "Now enough talk of business. We have a lovely meal in front of us and we shouldn't ruin it with serious talk."

Zora smiled at her father, thankful that he was willing to change the subject. She was still looking forward to seeing Daryl again on Saturday, but she was much less anxious to ask him to come meet her father. It felt like she was a teenager who'd been caught necking with a boy and now had to bring him home for Sunday dinner. She hoped Daryl would be easygoing about it, but she still resented that she had to ask him. She pushed the thought from her mind and decided to focus on enjoying the meal she had prepared. She would deal with that hurdle when she came to it.


	7. Chapter 7

**I like this chapter. It was fun to write. Enjoy and please review! I need more feedback! :)**

* * *

><p><strong>June 20, 1925<strong>

Zora peeked out her bathroom door and stole a glance at the clock. It was almost 4:00, and Zora realized she had been getting ready for almost 45 minutes, much longer than she thought. It was the day she was supposed to drive out to Daryl's to pick up her first order of moonshine, and she had taken extra care and effort to perfect her appearance. She realized such an effort was silly; Daryl was a simple man who probably wouldn't notice or care that her lipstick had been perfectly painted on or that her cheeks displayed a delicate flush from her rouge. But part of her wanted Daryl to think she was beautiful, and she couldn't explain why.

Shaking her head at herself, Zora put down her powder brush and went to put on her shoes. She wore a simple but flattering navy blue drop-waist dress that fell just above her knees, and she chose a pair of low cream heels to go with it. She buckled the straps on the heels and grabbed her purse, making sure the money for the order was inside, before exiting her apartment and bounding down the stairs to her car out back.

As she began driving, she couldn't fight the small bubble of excitement in her belly. Daryl was one of the most unlikely men she would typically be interested in, but his simple life and rough-around-the-edges manner intrigued her. She told herself that she needed to keep the relationship professional, despite her attraction to him. It was hard enough being a woman in her position, and if she made her attraction known, he could easily lose his respect for her. It was a ridiculous attraction anyway, and she felt like a silly old bird for even acknowledging it.

The forty minutes to Daryl's house were soon past, and she pulled into his driveway behind his truck. As she climbed out of the car, she saw him chopping wood for the wood stove out back. She made her way over to him, and he looked up and threw her a wave when he saw her.

"Was wonderin' when you'd show up," he commented as she approached him.

"I wasn't sure what you usually do during the day, so I thought later would be best. I can come earlier next time if that's more convenient for you."

"Whenever's fine with me," he grunted, wedging the ax into a large piece of wood. "C'mon. Let's get you loaded up."

Zora followed him to the shed where several crates of moonshine awaited her. She noticed that he was already brewing another batch in the still. She grabbed a crate, grunting a little at its weight, and followed Daryl out to the car, a crate in his arms as well. They began loading up the backseat.

"George wants to know if you'd be willing to make a little more shine for my next order, so he can sell some in Walton's, too," Zora said as they carried more crates to the car. "Would you be willing to do that?"

Daryl shrugged and bent down to pick up another crate. "Sure."

Zora grinned and stepped aside so Daryl could place the last crate in the backseat. She threw a blanket over the crates to disguise them and reached for her purse. She handed Daryl a stack of bills. As he had done last time, he didn't count the money, just shoved it unceremoniously into his pocket. He looked toward the sun that was now getting low on the horizon and squinted.

"Looks to be gettin' close to dinner time," he observed. "You wanna stay for dinner? I mean, since you drove all the way out here and all . . ."

"That would be swell," Zora agreed quickly. Zora wondered if she had accepted too quickly. She cleared her throat. "Thank you."

Daryl nodded once and jerked his head toward the house. He wasn't sure what had prompted him to invite her to stay for dinner, but he found that he was relieved that she had accepted. Zora followed him in through the back door and into the kitchen, where she saw a few quail on the kitchen counter.

"Got 'em earlier today," Daryl said. "We can roast 'em up with some carrots and potatoes."

"Sounds delicious," Zora said with a smile. "How can I help? Anything but gutting those birds, though," she added, and Daryl chuckled.

"You can go out to the garden to grab some vegetables and get started on those, if you want. Potatoes are in a sack in this cupboard. I go through too many of 'em to grow 'em all myself."

Zora nodded and made her way back outside. Daryl's garden was quite large and had a large variety of fruit and vegetables growing in it. Growing up in the city, and always in an apartment, Zora had never had a garden, and she was almost envious of it. She pulled a few carrots and also grabbed some kale before making her way back inside.

The two of them were awkwardly silent as they prepared the meal together. Zora didn't want to fill the air with meaningless static, but she wasn't sure what to say to start a decent conversation either. It was very uncharacteristic of her, as she was usually quite a chatterbox. It wasn't until all the ingredients were cooking on the stove that Daryl opened one of his lower cabinets and pulled out a jar of moonshine. He held it up to her with arched eyebrows, and Zora nodded. The alcohol would help to loosen her tongue.

Daryl poured her a glass and slid it toward her on the counter. She took a sip and exhaled as the liquid burned down her throat and warmed her belly. Daryl poured a glass for himself as well and leaned against the counter, seeming to be studying her as he often did. Zora took a few more quick sips and already felt more at ease.

"My father wants to meet you," she said suddenly. She noticed that Daryl's expression turned a bit uncomfortable, and she couldn't blame him. "He just wants to meet the man I'm doing business with. It isn't like you're in trouble or anything."

Daryl nodded once, still looking uncomfortable. "Guess that's reasonable," he grunted. "When?"

"He's going to keep bugging me about it until he meets you," Zora sighed. "So sooner rather than later."

Daryl took a large sip of moonshine. "How 'bout I deliver the next order to you in the city, then?" he suggested. "Then I can meet your father."

Zora nodded. "That would be jake. But I have to warn you, it's dangerous smuggling hooch into Five Points. The KKK are still out there trying to put a stop to bootlegging, and they're serious about it."

"I'll be fine," Daryl shrugged. "It ain't unusual to have a bunch of cargo in the bed of a pick up truck."

"I guess so," Zora nodded. "Just be careful."

Daryl nodded. "So I'll come into Atlanta next Saturday then?"

"Works for me," Zora smiled.

Daryl went to the stove and checked on the food. It seemed to be ready, so he grabbed a few plates and dished out the food onto them. He handed a plate to Zora and followed her to the table and sat down. Zora raised her glass of moonshine to him.

"Cheers," she said. "To this unlikely, but swell, partnership."

Daryl gave her a one-sided grin and raised his glass, clinking it to hers. The both took a sip and dug into the food. Zora didn't bother with being ladylike. It was too good to take small, delicate bites, and Daryl watched her with amusement in his eyes.

"Compliments to the chef," she said.

He shrugged and smiled at her. She downed a few more bites, followed by more sips of moonshine, and examined the shadowed kitchen. The sun was setting and the house was growing dark. Daryl seemed to take note of the lighting and stood from the table to light a few lanterns.

"What was it like growing up out here?" Zora asked. "In the country, I mean."

Zora noticed Daryl stiffen, and when he sat back down at the table, his mouth had pressed into a thin line. He gave half a shrug and didn't answer the question.

"Like what did you do for fun? When you were a kid?"

He snorted, as if the idea of having fun as a kid was ludicrous. Zora frowned, confused by his reaction.

"I dunno, same shit I do now," he grunted. "Huntin', fishin', whatever."

Zora sensed he was uncomfortable talking about his childhood, and she remembered what her father had told her about Daryl's father's record. She wondered if that had anything to do with it. Whatever his childhood had been like, Daryl didn't seem keen on sharing about it.

"Those are the only things you do for fun?" she teased, deciding to bring the conversation back to the present.

"Yeah," Daryl shrugged. "I read a little, too."

The truth was that Daryl hadn't finished high school. He'd dropped out after ninth grade, and reading was still difficult for him. He was a slow reader, and he often didn't know the meaning of many of the words on the page. But without Merle around to tease him about having a book in his lap, Daryl had begun trying to teach himself to be a better reader. After the sun went down, he'd read by light of a lantern until his eyes ached. He could tell Zora had been well-educated, however, and he didn't want to admit that reading was a struggle for him.

"What do you do for fun in the city that's so exciting then?" he asked her, wanting to draw the attention away from himself. Zora finished the last bite of food on her plate and pushed it away from her. She took another sip of moonshine.

"There's a lot to entertain in the city," Zora said. "Like going dancing, or seeing a live jazz band, or just driving around. Or I stay in with friends and we drink and play games, like charades or poker or blackjack."

Daryl finished his own plate and leaned back in his chair. "It's been a while since I've played cards," he mused. "Got a deck in the livin' room, but no one to play with."

Zora's eyes brightened. "Let's play then!" she exclaimed. "I challenge you to a game of poker."

Daryl eyed her, a grin snaking its way across his face. "What are the stakes?"

Zora resisted the urge to suggest strip poker, despite her inexplicable desire to see Daryl without a shirt on. She hummed in thought before an idea struck her.

"Let's turn it into a drinking game," she suggested. "For each hand, if I win, you drink. If you win, I drink."

Daryl smirked at her. "You're 'bout to get half seas over."

Zora's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Dixon. I'm pretty good at poker."

Daryl grinned at her and stood from the table. He cleared the plates and put them in the sink before going into the living room and grabbing the long-unused deck of cards from a side table drawer. He made his way back to the kitchen table and sat down across from Zora, shuffling the cards with ease.

"All right then, Miss Brown," he said with a cocky tone. "We're about to find out just how good you are."

* * *

><p>The kitchen was spinning, and Zora was laughing almost uncontrollably. Trouble was, she couldn't even remember what she was laughing at. Daryl was watching her from across the table with a very amused expression on his face. Zora finally caught her breath and looked up at him.<p>

"I don't even know what's funny," she proclaimed, sending her into another fit of giggles.

"You're screwy," Daryl teased with a playful grin. Zora finally managed to calm herself and tried to focus on her hand in front of her. The cards seemed to blur together and she swayed a little in her chair.

"I fold," she sighed. "I can't even see my cards anymore."

Daryl smirked at her, clearly proud of how well he had played. It turned out that Zora was quite good at poker, but Daryl had been better. He had won most hands in the past hour or two, but he hadn't let her do all the drinking. He'd nursed his own glass of moonshine and felt that he had quite an edge, but he was nowhere near as fried as Zora.

"You're staying here tonight," he declared. "Ain't no way you're drivin' home like this."

"Fine, twist my arm," Zora agreed. She tossed her cards on the table and leaned back in her chair. Daryl gathered up the cards and put them back in the box. He stood from the table and went to the sink, filling two glasses of water and sliding one across the table to her. She accepted it graciously and tried to drink as much of it as she could. She knew she would feel like hell in the morning, but the water should help a bit.

"You're fun," Daryl said suddenly. Zora cocked her head at him and grinned.

"I know. But if you think this is fun, you have no idea how much fun can be had in the city. You gotta let me take you out on the town when you come up next week."

Daryl sighed. "I dunno 'bout that. City life ain't really my thing."

"How would you know?" she quipped. "You've lived out here your whole life, so you don't know how much fun the city can be."

"Guess that's true," Daryl said. "Okay, I'll let you show me what you get up to in the city. But I ain't promisin' that I'll like it."

"Well, _I _promise that you will," Zora declared with a triumphant grin.

The evening had turned out to be a lot of fun, and the kind of fun Daryl hadn't experienced in a long while. Living out in the country alone suited him just fine, but he didn't have much human interaction. Zora was something else. She was a bearcat, a fireball, a wild woman who was showing him just how different females were in this day and age. She spoke her mind, seemed to have little regard for traditional gender roles or propriety, and was all about having fun. He knew women had changed in recent years, but Zora was showing him first-hand just how far they had come.

Daryl studied Zora as she leaned back contentedly in the kitchen chair. Her cheeks were flushed from the moonshine, and her eyelids looked heavy. He knew she was just bent from the moonshine, but the way she was looking at him from under her lashes was almost seductive. The soft lighting from the lanterns didn't help, either. He cleared his throat and realized he had been staring at her in silence for several moments.

"Do you get lonely out here?" she asked suddenly.

Daryl was taken aback by her question. "Yes," he answered honestly, and he immediately regretted revealing the vulnerability. He blamed the moonshine.

She nodded as if she understood, but said nothing. After a few moments, she sat up a little straighter and sighed.

"You're a good person," she said. "I'm glad I met you."

Daryl gave her a partial smile. "I think you've had too much to drink," he said. "We should get to bed."

Zora nodded and made to stand from her chair, but she wobbled and almost toppled over. Daryl reached out and caught her, holding her upright. She stumbled into him and steadied herself against him. Daryl released his hold on her, but she didn't withdraw from him. She was still pressed against his chest, and Daryl looked down and met her eyes. They were green, he realized, and they darted from his own blue eyes down to his lips. He suddenly felt very anxious, and Zora seemed to sense it. She blinked a few times before stepping away from him.

"Yeah, bed sounds nice," she agreed. She turned and began to shuffle her way toward the stairs.

Daryl let loose a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He quickly blew out the lanterns in the kitchen and grabbed one to light their way up the stairs. He followed behind Zora and made sure she made it up and into Merle's room safely.

"G'night," he muttered, and she hummed in response. He watched her literally collapse onto Merle's bed and almost immediately pass out. He moved to stand in Merle's doorway, the lantern casting a golden glow throughout the room. He realized that Zora's dress had ridden up when she had fallen onto the bed, and he swallowed hard at the sight of her exposed bare thighs. He realized he was staring and quickly closed the door to Merle's room, feeling like a dirty old man.

He cursed himself silently as he made his way into his own room. Zora had only come into his life a few weeks ago, and already she was messing with his head. He closed his own bedroom door and fell onto his bed, trying unsuccessfully to push the indecent thoughts of Zora out of his mind.


	8. Chapter 8

**June 21, 1925**

Zora's head was pounding, and she groaned as she opened her eyes to the harsh sunlight of morning spilling into the room. Her mouth felt like sandpaper and she had an ache in her neck from the way she had slept laying on her back with her head twisted to the side. She vaguely remembered stumbling into the room and passing out as soon she hit the bed, and she gave another groan realizing that she had probably made a fool out of herself in front of Daryl. She should have been trying to gain his respect, not lose it like she had probably done. With a heavy sigh, she heaved herself off the bed and went to stand in front of the dusty old mirror in the corner of the room. Her makeup was smeared around her eyes and she looked about as awful as she felt.

Zora tried her best to smooth down her hair and to wipe the smudges of makeup from around her eyes before resigning herself to her dreadful appearance and making her way down the stairs. Daryl was in the kitchen frying something on the stove, and the smell of it made her stomach rumble. He looked up at the sound of her footsteps and offered her a warm smile. He had bags under his eyes and looked exhausted, but he still looked better than Zora.

"There's coffee," he said, nodding toward a steaming cup on the kitchen table.

"Why are you so good to me?" Zora croaked, her voice scratchy from sleep as she grabbed the coffee.

Daryl shrugged, a smile still playing on his lips. He grabbed two plates and scooped the fried eggs and bacon he had been cooking onto them before setting one down in front of Zora. She sat down heavily in the chair.

"Thank you," she said earnestly.

"Ain't a big deal," Daryl shrugged as he sat down across from her. "I make breakfast most mornings, it's not like it's a trouble to make a little more."

Zora flashed him an appreciative smile before digging in. Bits and pieces of the previous night began to come back to her as they ate in comfortable silence. She remembered playing poker and losing miserably. Daryl was a much better poker player than he'd let on, but she had been the one to challenge him, so perhaps she'd walked into that one. As she finished her breakfast, she suddenly also remembered a moment when she had come so close to kissing him. She remembered how close his lips had been to hers, how easy it would have been to close the distance between them. She sighed, mentally scolding herself for being so stupid.

"You okay?" Daryl asked, noticing her sigh. He finished the food on his plate and turned his attention to her.

"Fine," she said. "I just wanted to apologize if I, uh . . . got out of hand last night."

"Don't know what you mean," Daryl shrugged, but from his suddenly uncomfortable posture, she could tell he did.

"Moonshine makes me do silly things sometimes," she explained.

Daryl nodded curtly, feeling awkward. Of course she had only behaved the way she had because of the moonshine. No woman in their right sober mind would be interested in a man like him. He inexplicably felt a little disappointed by her words, but above all, he was relieved. He may not have been able to deny his attraction to Zora, but he was entirely uncomfortable with the idea of their relationship pushing its current boundaries. Daryl wasn't looking for that kind of interaction with anyone, let alone a wild woman like Zora. He stood abruptly from the table and cleared away the empty plates.

"I had a lot of fun last night though," Zora ventured. "I'm really looking forward to you coming into Atlanta next week."

Daryl cleared his throat. "Yeah. Me too," he said gruffly, wishing he had sounded more sincere. He already felt anxious about their next meeting.

Zora stood from the table and finished the rest of her coffee. "I should get going," she said. "Thank you for such a great time, and for breakfast."

Daryl nodded again. "Yeah. See you next week."

Zora flashed him a smile before gathering her purse and walking out the front door. He watched her through the window as she climbed into her car and drove away, wishing he she didn't make him feel so confused. She was something else.

* * *

><p>Zora was utterly exhausted, but she knew she had a delivery to make to the Peachtree Tavern. James would be waiting for his order already, as she hadn't given him a set time that she would be delivering it that day. She had taken a quick moment back at her apartment to tidy herself up, deciding that a bath and a long nap were in order for later in the day, but now she was back in her car and pulling up behind the Peachtree to deliver Daryl's moonshine as promised.<p>

She knocked thrice on the backdoor of the joint and the door swung open to reveal James. He was in his late thirties and of Irish descent, and he had been the second speakeasy Zora had started delivering to when she decided to expand her business. James was a bit of a hot head when he was angry, but overall he was an all right fellow. He was the first person to take a chance on Zora outside of George, and she would be forever grateful to him for allowing her to expand her business.

"Hey there, James," Zora greeted with a smile, which he returned graciously. "I've got your order for you. The good stuff."

"Well that's just swell, c'mon in and I'll get Joey to unload it," James invited, opening the door wide for her. Zora stepped inside and took a seat on one of the bar stools while Joey, a young fellow who worked for James, went outside to begin unloading the crates.

"You look tired," James observed. "Long night?"

"You could say that," Zora replied. James nodded and went behind the bar to retrieve the payment for the order. He counted it out in front her so that she could witness that he was indeed paying the increased cost for the better quality shine. She accepted the money graciously and stashed it away in her purse. As Joey finished unloading the last crate, she stood and made her way back toward the door.

"Thanks, James. Let me know when you need more."

"One question, sweetheart," James called from behind the bar. Zora arched her eyebrows in response. "What's this stuff called?"

Zora cocked her head to the side, unsure what to say. James had a point. If she and Daryl were going to sell his shine, especially for an increased price, it should have a name.

"Let me get back to you on that," Zora said with a smile. She would have to talk to Daryl about deciding on a name for their product.

* * *

><p><strong>June 23, 1925<strong>

Zora was annoyed. No, she was angry. She was supposed to drive out to pick up an order from Louis that day, and Frankie was nowhere to be found. She had called multiple times and driven to his apartment and pounded on the door, but still there was no sign of him. He had known about this pick up days in advance, so there was no excuse for his sudden disappearance. And now that maintaining a good relationship with Louis was critical in the light of her new partnership with Daryl, Zora couldn't very well cancel her pick up with him.

With an angry huff, she stormed off Frankie's porch and back to her car, slamming the door shut behind her. Where was he? She had talked to him a few days prior and he had been ready and willing to accompany her on this trip to Louis's still. But now he was missing, and Zora was losing patience. She wasn't comfortable going alone after what had happened last time, but she couldn't very well wait around all day for the kid.

Suddenly, an idea struck her. Maybe Daryl would be home, and maybe he could accompany her to Louis's still. He and Louis were at least somewhat familiar with each other due to Louis's friendship with Merle, so maybe that would work in her favor. Besides, she needed to talk to Daryl about coming up with a name for his moonshine. Set on this plan, she started the engine and began the drive out into the country. Daryl's house was on the way to Louis's, and Zora didn't trust her resolve to drive by without stopping by to say hello anyway.

As she drove, she tried to come up with possible names for Daryl's moonshine, but they all seemed inadequate. She wanted to know his thoughts on the matter. After all, it was his family recipe and his hard work that brought the shine into existence, so he should be able to name the fruits of his labor.

Before long, Zora pulled into Daryl's driveway. His truck was parked in front of the shed as usual. She exited the car and started heading for the house, but a sound behind her made her stop and turn. Daryl had appeared in the doorway of the shed, looking not that surprised to see her standing there.

"Sorry to barge in like this," Zora began, but then laughed at herself. "But then again, when have I not barged in?"

Daryl smirked at her in amusement. "Somethin' I can do for you?"

"Actually, yes. I'm on my way to pick up an order from Louis, and Frankie, the guy who usually comes with me as protection, is nowhere to be found. Would you mind coming with me? Just in case?"

Daryl frowned. He didn't particularly like Louis, but he didn't know the man all that well. He only knew him in association with Merle. But despite his own misgivings about the man, he certainly wasn't about to let Zora go there alone after what had happened the last time she had gone there by herself. He nodded.

"Sure. Let's go."

He followed Zora to her car without another word and climbed in the passenger seat next to her.

"Thanks for coming along," Zora said, sounding relieved.

"After what happened last time, you think I'd say no and let you go alone?"

Zora flashed him a sheepish smile. "Still, I appreciate it."

They drove in silence the rest of the way, and Daryl felt himself tensing as they pulled into Louis's barn. He had been here a few times before with Merle, but he wasn't sure if Louis would remember him. Two men pulled the barn doors closed behind the car, and Zora climbed out. He realized this was very routine for her, and he followed her lead. Louis came over and stopped when his eyes landed on Daryl.

"Daryl Dixon? That you?" he asked. Daryl grunted and nodded once in reply. "Haven't seen you since Merle got thrown in the big house. How's he been?"

Daryl shrugged. "Don't visit much."

"Ah," Louis said, eying Daryl warily. "Well, give him my best next time you do."

Zora cleared her throat and Louis turned his attention to her. His men were loading crates of moonshine into her backseat and she handed him a stack of cash.

"Once again, darlin', I'm so sorry 'bout what happened last time. You have my word that it'll never happen again. The situation was . . . dealt with."

Zora nodded, not reciprocating his friendliness beyond basic professionalism. "Water under the bridge. But I'll hold you to your word that it won't happen again."

"Ab-so-lute-ly," Louis said with a vigorous nod. "Besides, no one in their right mind would try anything with a Dixon ridin' in your car."

Louis was grinning at Daryl, but he didn't return the gesture. As soon as the crates of shine were loaded up, he climbed back inside the car without a word.

"Thanks, Louis," Zora said somewhat stiffly, climbing in next to Daryl. The barn doors were pulled open and Zora backed out and turned around to head back down the dirt road toward Daryl's house. She and Daryl were silent for a few miles, but something Daryl had said nagged at her.

"You don't visit your brother in prison?" she asked. Daryl shrugged.

"I used to a lot when he first got locked up, but I ain't been to see him in a few months."

Zora nodded, sensing that Daryl was a little uncomfortable with the topic of conversation. Merle wasn't happy about being locked up, and he seemed to take out his bitterness and resentment on Daryl whenever he visited. For a while, he felt it was his duty as Merle's brother and only living family member to visit, but soon he grew tired of Merle's attitude. Merle would be locked away for the next fourteen years, so his brother's negative attitude didn't have to affect him if he chose not to go visit him.

Zora opted to change the conversation topic. She glanced over to Daryl. "We need a name for your moonshine," she said.

Daryl frowned. "Why?"

"Think of it like a brand name," Zora explained. "If people are asking for it specifically, and selling it for more kale, they wanna know what it's called. It makes it easier to refer to it, to order it, and to talk it up to their friends."

"Guess that makes sense."

"So, what do you want to call it?"

Daryl was silent for a few moments and shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno. I ain't good at comin' up with stuff."

"Well, maybe your name should be attached to it since it's a family recipe and all."

Daryl's expression hardened, but Zora didn't notice with her eyes on the road.

"It's your business, though," Daryl countered, not wanting to bring his family into it. "All I do is make the stuff."

Zora scoffed. "That's the hard part. You do the hard work and I just market it."

"Then why don't we come up with a name that showcases both of us?" Daryl suggested.

Zora thought hard, racking her brain for any similarities between herself and Daryl. They were such different people that it was hard to come up with anything. He was rough, country, and liked getting his hands dirty. She was glamorous, wild, and thrived in a busy city environment. The two of them were about as different as people could be.

As she pulled into Daryl's driveway, she was struck with sudden inspiration. She put the Model T in park and turned to face him. He eyed her expectantly.

"Dixon's Vixen," she stated matter-of-factly. He raised his eyebrows and hummed in consideration. "It's got your name to credit you for the shine, and it alludes to the doll who sells it for you." She winked as she playfully referenced herself.

Daryl mulled it over in his head. Dixon's Vixen Moonshine. It had a nice ring to it, and it certainly sounded like a brand name.

"I like it," he declared. "Dixon's Vixen it is."

Zora flashed him a devious grin, excited about their newly named product. Just like that, Dixon's Vixen was born.


	9. Chapter 9

**This is a long chapter! Hope you enjoy and please review!  
><strong>

**Also, I don't usually recommend music to accompany my stories, but for this chapter, once they get out on the town, I highly recommend listening to "The Fireface" by the Parov Stelar Trio to get you in the mood! It's an electroswing song, which is my favorite genre of music. The song can be found on YouTube if you wish to listen.  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>June 27, 1925<strong>

Zora paced her apartment anxiously. She tried not to look at the clock, but she couldn't stop her eyes from constantly darting toward it. Daryl would be there any minute, and the anticipation of his arrival had made it impossible for Zora to sit still. She was anxious about introducing him to her father, but excited to show him the night life Atlanta had to offer. It was almost 7:30. On their last meeting, they had agreed that Daryl would drive into Atlanta after dinner, and they would drop off the order for storage at Walton's before going to meet Zora's father. She knew her father had wanted to have Daryl over for dinner, but she didn't want to push Daryl into spending too much time with her father. She knew he was a bit uncomfortable with the idea, and she wanted to make it as painless as possible for him.

There was a knock at the door and Zora dashed to answer it. She opened the door and saw Daryl standing in the hallway, his hands shoved somewhat awkwardly into his pockets. He looked like he had made an effort to clean himself up a bit, which seemed out of character for him. His clothes were clean, though still slightly wrinkled, and he didn't appear to be covered in dirt or grime. Zora smiled at him.

"Glad you made it," she said, holding the door open for him. "Let me just grab my purse and we'll be on our way."

Daryl entered the apartment and stood in the entryway, observing how the place looked at night. The artificial light from the electricity was much brighter than the light from the lanterns he used. Zora grabbed a purse from a side table and turned off the lamps throughout the room. He followed her back out of the apartment and down the stairs.

"Did you run into any trouble on your way here?" Zora asked as she pushed open the door at the bottom of the stairs.

"Nah, no trouble."

"Good."

She made her way over to his truck and threw back the blanket that covered the crates of moonshine.

"Wait here. I'll go grab George and we can unload."

Daryl nodded and watched her disappear into the back door of Walton's. He was anxious to get the introduction to Zora's father out of the way. Despite Zora's assurances that her father was on their side, it was still intimidating to shake the hand of a police sergeant, considering the business he had entered into with Zora. He had tried to make himself appear more presentable than he typically would, hoping that her father would be less quick to judge him for the country fellow he was.

Zora soon emerged with George and another man in tow. George gave him a nod as he approached.

"Hey there, Daryl," he greeted. "Good to see you again."

Daryl nodded and grabbed a crate of moonshine, George and the other man with him doing the same. The men quickly unloaded the crates into a back storage room of Walton's. The gin mill was just about to open for business, and he could see several jazz musicians setting up on a small stage.

"After you meet Daddy, we'll come back here," Zora said. "I want you to see what Walton's is like at night."

"All right," Daryl nodded. He had to admit that he was interested in what the joint looked like during business hours.

"We'll be back soon, George," Zora called, leading Daryl back outside. She opened her purse and handed him a stack of cash for the moonshine, which Daryl shoved quickly into his pocket.

"Daddy only lives about a ten-minute walk from here. We'll just pop over to say hello and then be on our way."

Daryl fell into step beside her on the side walk, matching her quick pace. His eyes drank in the sights of the city around him. Daryl wasn't a stranger to the city, but he strongly preferred the isolation of the country. The city always seemed loud and busy and bright, and he enjoyed the quiet peacefulness of country life. Since it was a Saturday night, many people seemed to be out and about, laughing and calling to each other on the street. From what Zora had told him, there were many speakeasies in this neighborhood.

Soon they had arrived at a five-story building, and Daryl followed Zora inside and up a few flights of stairs. She paused in front of an apartment door and gave him a purposeful look.

"Ready?" she murmured. He nodded once. He was as ready as he was going to get.

Zora opened the door and stepped inside, Daryl on her heels.

"Daddy?" she called.

A man in his late forties appeared from the kitchen. He had brown hair but shared Zora's green eyes. He smiled and walked toward them with his hand outstretched.

"You must be Daryl," he said. "I'm Daniel."

Daryl shook the man's hand and tried to force an amicable expression on his face. "Nice to meet you, sir."

"Daniel is fine," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "So you're the mastermind behind Zora's new product, eh?"

Daryl shrugged awkwardly. "Yeah. It's a family recipe."

Zora's father seemed to sense Daryl's discomfort. "Look, I know I'm an officer of the law and all, but you don't have to worry about that. I'm on your side."

Daryl glanced at Zora and she flashed him a brief reassuring smile. He forced a smile at her father and nodded to show he understood.

"So how long have you been making this family recipe?" her father asked.

"Couple of generations," Daryl said. "It's been the same for decades. Even when there were still saloons around, we always preferred to make our own."

"Well, from what I hear, it's pretty great stuff. I'd like to try it myself if Zora would be so kind as to bring me some."

"You just tell me when, Daddy," Zora grinned at her father. He smiled back at his daughter.

"I hear Zora is taking you out on the town tonight," he said, turning his attention back to Daryl with an amused expression on his face. "I hope she doesn't scare you away."

Daryl laughed lightly. "Nah, I may live in the country, but I think I can handle it."

"Would you like to stay for a coffee first?"

"Daddy, no," Zora quickly intervened. "We gotta mooch. Places to go, people to see, you know."

Daniel rolled his eyes at his daughter. "All right, all right, I know you can't stay. But I appreciate you takin' the time to come say hello."

Daryl nodded, and Zora was already opening the apartment door and leading him away. "It was great to meet you," he said.

"Likewise. I hope this partnership of yours works out. You seem like a good fella."

"Thanks," Daryl replied awkwardly. He hadn't expected Zora's father to be so welcoming.

"Bye, Daddy," Zora called. "I'll come by in a day or two for dinner."

Daniel threw them a wave and closed the apartment door behind them. Zora let out a sigh.

"Well, that was easier than I was expecting," she said as she bounded down the stairs. Daryl was inclined to agree. He followed her down the stairs and back outside, falling into step beside her once more.

"He always that friendly?"

"Sure," Zora shrugged. "He's pretty easy going. He just wanted to meet you face to face so he can feel better about this partnership. I'm his only daughter, so he's protective of me."

Daryl nodded and fell silent as they walked. As they neared Walton's, Daryl could hear the faint sounds of live music coming from the joint. Zora led him around back as usual and entered the establishment. The music was much louder inside. Daryl tried to keep his expression neutral and to not show his surprise. It was the first time he had ever seen a full live jazz band performing, and he could immediately see the appeal. People were already dancing on the dance floor in front of the stage, and others were milling about with drinks in their hands. Zora led him over to the end of the bar and claimed two vacant barstools there, motioning for him to sit next to her.

The bartender noticed Zora and came over to say hello. As she ordered drinks and made small talk, Daryl allowed his eyes to wander around the joint. The crowd seemed to be a mix of different kinds of people, but most of them were young like Zora. Thankfully he noticed a few plainly dressed men who looked about his age, and he didn't feel so horribly out of place. They still looked more comfortable in this environment than he felt, but he had to admit that the live music was pleasing.

Zora leaned over and handed him a drink. He took a sip and realized it was a moonshine cocktail of sorts. He could tell it wasn't his moonshine, because even with the sweetened additives in the drink, he could still taste the awful one-note burn of the stuff, but he didn't mind. He took several deep swigs in attempt to loosen up a little.

"So what do you think?" Zora asked in his ear. He gave her a side smile in response, which she returned fully. They both turned their attention to the music, Zora's knee bouncing along with the beat. The two of them sat contentedly sipping their drinks for a few songs, and soon Daryl found his empty glass replaced with another full one. He reached into his pocket to grab some money to give to Zora, but she shook her head.

"I don't pay for drinks here," she said with a sly grin. "So it's on me."

Daryl scoffed a little, but accepted the drink. He noticed three elaborately dressed women emerge in front of the stage, all decked out in sequins with plentiful skin exposed. They began to move in time with the music and in sync with each other, and Zora let out a catcall of delight.

"I used to be one of them," she said to Daryl, and his eyes widened a little.

"You danced around in that outfit?" he asked, immediately regretting letting such a question slip from his mouth. But Zora only flashed him a mischievous smile and a wink.

"Do you dance?" she asked him suddenly. It was clear that sitting still on the barstool wasn't easy for her. Her body itched to move in time with the music. Daryl shifted uncomfortably on his chair.

"Not if I can help it. I'm a bit of a hoofer," he admitted.

"I can teach you!" Zora exclaimed in excitement.

"Hell no!" Daryl refused, and she pouted. She didn't have to pout for long, however. A young red-headed woman suddenly ambushed the pair of them and embraced Zora, both of them kissing the air on either side of their cheeks.

"Daryl, I'd like you to meet my good friend Molly," Zora introduced.

"Ooh, where'd you find this one?" Molly smirked, looking Daryl up and down. He cleared his throat and tried not to physically withdraw from her in his awkwardness.

"Oh, stop," Zora chided. "He's my new business partner," she added in a hushed voice.

Molly arched her eyebrows in surprise. "When did moonshiners get so keen?"

Zora rolled her eyes at her friend. "Sorry," she said to Daryl. "She isn't good at censoring herself."

Daryl laughed, the hooch finally starting to loosen him up a little. He took another deep sip of his drink.

"Daryl here doesn't like to dance," Zora stated matter-of-factly. "What do you say we show him how it's done?"

Molly giggled and grabbed Zora's hand. She quickly handed her drink to Daryl and flashed him a smirk before joining Molly a few feet away from the bar. Daryl watched in amusement that quickly turned to fascination as the two girls danced perfectly to the music and in perfect time with one another. He had never seen anyone move with such grace and abandon at the same time. He found himself unable to draw his eyes away from Zora. He imagined her dancing in the risqué outfits the dancers by the stage wore, and quickly gulped down more of his drink to try to erase the image from his mind.

Zora and Molly danced together for a few songs, and Daryl was perfectly content to watch them. Finally Zora bounded back over to him, and Molly scattered off in another direction.

"Finish your drink, we're going somewhere else," she announced.

"What? Why?" Daryl asked. He had finally started feeling comfortable in this environment.

"There's a much bigger juice joint down the street that Molly wants to go to. They've got a huge live band there tonight, much bigger than this one. She's just gone to fetch her man and she'll meet us there."

Daryl shrugged, guessing it wasn't up for debate. He quickly downed the rest of the drink in his hands and allowed Zora to pull him off the barstool and toward the back door. He gave a nod to George, who was behind the bar, and the man returned the gesture. As he and Zora emerged into the back alley, Daryl was suddenly glad of the fresh air. Walton's had become quite stuffy with all the people dancing inside.

"You can dance pretty good," he commented, feeling loose and relaxed from the cocktails.

"Thanks," Zora smiled. "I've been dancin' since I was a little girl. I love it."

"I can tell."

They walked side by side for several blocks until Zora led him down a narrow alleyway and to a metal door in the side of a building. He could hear quite a commotion from the other side of the door, but it looked inconspicuous from the outside. Zora knocked a particular pattern on the door, which swung open to reveal a man in a suit and tie. He ushered them inside.

Daryl tried not to gawk. This gin mill was much bigger than Walton's, and it was a higher-class joint. At Walton's, Daryl hadn't felt horribly out of place, but he certainly did here. Everyone seemed to be dressed up in their glad rags for a night on the town, and the most effort he had put into his appearance was making sure he wasn't covered in dirt. He self-consciously smoothed the wrinkles in his shirt. Zora seemed to notice his unease and gave him a reassuring smile.

"It's fine. You look great," she said, and she grabbed his hand. Daryl fought his urge to withdraw from her and let her lace her fingers through his. She led him by the hand through the many dancing couples on the dance floor over to the bar, where she ordered two drinks.

"You come here a lot?" Daryl asked her. She shrugged.

"Sometimes." She handed him a drink and immediately stilled his hand when it went to fish into his pocket for some cash. "I told you. It's on me. I invited you here, so you won't be paying."

Daryl opened his mouth to object, but Zora literally pressed a finger to his lips.

"Dry up! I'm paying," she said firmly.

Daryl shook his head. He couldn't believe a woman had the gall to pay for a man, but he clearly was stuck in the past when it came to women. Zora had proven that to him, as had his observations of many similar women that evening.

Zora took his hand again and led him to a table a ways off from the dance floor. Daryl was relieved to see it was secluded in shadows, meaning he would be more hidden from the rest of the speakeasy patrons. He felt immensely out of place. He sat down next to Zora and tried to pace himself on his drink. He was already quite relaxed, and he certainly didn't intend to get ossified that evening.

"You look uncomfortable," Zora observed.

Daryl shrugged. "Just feel out of place is all."

She smiled. "Just relax. I know it's a lot more than you're used to, but if you stop convincing yourself that everyone's judging you, which they aren't, I think you could have a really good time."

"I am having a good time," he said.

"Good," Zora smiled. She turned her eyes to the dance floor, searching for Molly but not spotting her. Daryl watched the band onstage. As Zora had said, they were much bigger than the band playing at Walton's. The musicians seemed to be having a good time, and the dancers were having an even better time. His eyes drifted back to Zora. She looked very much in her element, with her short blonde hair and perfected makeup. He also realized suddenly how young she looked.

"How old are you?" he blurted out suddenly. She raised her eyebrows at him, surprised by his question. He reddened, embarrassed.

"Twenty-four," she answered with a slight smile. "How old are you?"

Daryl cleared his throat awkwardly, now fully regretting asking the question. He felt old.

"Thirty-eight."

"You need to live a little, Daryl," Zora smirked at him. "You aren't an old man yet."

Daryl met her eyes and shared a smile with her. "How long you been comin' to places like this?"

"A few years," she replied. "Most of 'em didn't open til after the nationwide prohibition went into effect, so they've really only been around for five years or so. George and my daddy grew up together, so when he opened up a gin mill, I started going there first. He was the one to take a chance on me and let me work for him."

Daryl nodded. "He seems like a good fella."

"He is."

Daryl turned his attention back to the music, but suddenly shouts attracted his attention. The music stopped suddenly, and Daryl noticed several police officers pouring in through the door.

"Oh, shit!" Zora exclaimed. "C'mon, we gotta go!"

"Go where?" Daryl hissed.

"Out the back. Follow me!"

Daryl raced after Zora. She tore around the bar and into a dark hallway and tripped over some boxes. Daryl caught her and realized she was giggling.

"What's so funny?" Daryl demanded. "Damn place is being raided, I don't see the joke."

She grinned at him and grabbed his hand, pulling him through the hallway and around several corners. Suddenly she reached a door and threw it open, exposing a dark alleyway. She crept along the wall and peeked around the corner to the main street. There were several police cars and more policemen filing into the club. She jerked her head down the alley and pulled Daryl along.

"What happens if they catch us?" Daryl hissed.

"We get arrested," she replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Daryl crept along behind her, amazed that she still seemed amused by the whole endeavor.

"You done this before?"

"Done what?"

"Fleein' from the police!"

"Once or twice," she said with a smirk, and Daryl looked at her incredulously. She just giggled and pulled him on. They came upon a main street and began walking down it hand in hand. The sound of police shouting down the street drifted toward them, and Zora tugged both of them into a much smaller, darker alley. She pressed herself against the wall and Daryl did the same.

A few policemen went running past the alley a few moments later and Daryl had to fight the urge to sigh in relief. He suddenly became aware of how close his body was to Zora's. She turned her head slightly and met his eyes, mischief and amusement still glittering in hers. Daryl didn't understand how the possibility of getting arrested was fun to her, but adrenaline was coursing through his veins and he somewhat understood. Maybe it was the rush of evading the law that entertained her. Regardless of her reasoning, her reckless abandon had pulled Daryl in.

Before he could register what was happening, Zora turned to face him, their bodies so close they were touching. He met her eyes and saw her gaze dart to his lips. He made to pull away, but before he could, she suddenly tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled his lips down to hers. In shock, Daryl didn't kiss back at first, but as her mouth moved against his, he found himself quickly succumbing to the kiss. She pressed her body into his harder and deepened the kiss, and Daryl felt himself growing hot. He kissed her back hard. His body started to react to her actions, and suddenly he became more aware of what was happening. Fear suddenly coursed through him and he pulled away abruptly.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded, withdrawing from her completely. She looked at him, confused.

"What do you mean?"

Daryl stared at her open-mouthed, looking like a fish out of water. He couldn't find the words that he wanted to say to explain himself. He suddenly turned on his heel and fled from the alley, leaving Zora standing there dumbfounded.


	10. Chapter 10

**June 28, 1925**

Zora was exhausted and incredibly frustrated. She felt that she was going to wear a hole in the floor from all of her pacing, but she couldn't stop. The sun was starting to rise, but she had barely slept. It wasn't like her to get in a lather about a guy giving her the icy mitt, but Daryl wasn't just any guy. Aside from his intriguing rugged nature and her heavy attraction to him, he was also her business partner. His reaction to her kiss had been confusing, as at first he had reciprocated, but the way he had stormed off made it clear to her that such an action was not wanted. She was afraid not only of losing his friendship, but also of losing their business relationship. What if he was so angry with her that he didn't want to do business anymore? Their partnership was still new, and while she could just go back to selling Louis's mediocre moonshine, she was eager to see how she and Daryl's business could grow. But at the moment, she didn't even know if Dixon's Vixen was still standing.

For the hundredth time, Zora cursed Daryl for not having a telephone. The inability to pick up the receiver and give him a ring to ask about all this was infuriating. She knew her exasperation with his lack of a telephone was silly, considering how rare rural electrification was, but she couldn't help her frustration. She needed to talk to Daryl.

Zora looked at the clock. It was only 6:30 a.m., and the sun was just coming up. She huffed to herself and then decided that she didn't care what time it was. She needed to talk to Daryl and the only way to do that was to drive out and see him face to face. He seemed to be a morning person, judging from the times she had slept at his house, but even if he wasn't, she still would have gone. She went into the bathroom and checked her appearance in the mirror. Her hair still held its style from the night before, and she wore no makeup, but she still looked a lot better than she had those mornings she had woken up at Daryl's house. She told herself that it didn't matter what she looked like anyway, as Daryl was clearly not interested in pursuing any kind of romantic relationship with her. With a sigh, she shoved her feet into some shoes, grabbed her purse and keys, and hurried down to her car.

As Zora drove out of the city, the rising sun spilled golden light on the peaceful surroundings of the country. Zora wished she could feel as peaceful as the scenery. She drove as fast as the Model T would allow and made it to Daryl's house in just over half an hour. She pulled her car in behind his truck and made her way up to the front porch, feeling determined.

She rapped at the door and waited, half expecting Daryl to appear at the side of the house as he had in the past. She heard footsteps inside and was suddenly faced with a grouchy-looking Daryl.

"Damn, woman, can't you ever give me any peace?" he growled at her. The house smelled of coffee inside, and Zora was relieved that she hadn't woken him with her intrusion.

"Sorry, but we need to talk, and since you don't have a damn telephone, here I am."

"Ain't got nothin' to talk about."

"You're all wet about that," Zora retorted with narrowed eyes. "I'm not leaving until you talk to me."

"I'm talkin' to you now," Daryl said gruffly, his body still blocking the doorway. She shot him an exasperated look and he sighed somewhat dramatically before stepping aside as a nonverbal invitation. She walked inside and he made his way past her back toward the kitchen with Zora following him.

"Java?" he grunted.

"Sure," Zora said, leaning against the kitchen table. Daryl poured her a cup from the pot on the stove and handed it to her.

"So why're you 'bout to break my door down not even an hour past dawn?" Daryl asked as he poured himself a cup of coffee as well. He leaned against the counter facing her, and his expression told her that he was highly uncomfortable.

"You know why. What the hell happened last night?"

Daryl shrugged, his eyes darting around the kitchen and refusing to meet her gaze. "You were there. You tell me."

"Lay off, Daryl," Zora snapped, her patience wearing thin already. "We kissed and then you ran off. Literally. I'm sorry if I crossed the line when I kissed you, but I don't understand why you were so upset about it."

Daryl shrugged again and said nothing. Zora glowered at him and he cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Sorry for runnin' off . . . I just, I can't. I can't do this with you."

"Do what?"

"What d'you think? Neckin' in dark alleyways and such! I just can't do it."

Zora studied him for a moment and took a long sip of her coffee.

"So does our partnership still stand?"

Daryl blinked, confused. "Course it does. I just can't make it more'n that."

She nodded slowly. "Okay. I understand." She tried to suppress the fact that she was a little hurt by Daryl's words and instead focused on her relief that their business arrangement still stood. Daryl watched her and said nothing. She took another sip of her coffee and put the cup down on the kitchen table behind her.

"I'll get out of your hair," she said. "Sorry for barging in and casting a kitten about all this. I just had to know where we stand."

"We're good," Daryl said gruffly.

She nodded once. "Okay. I'll see you in a week for my next order."

Without giving him much chance to reply, she turned on her heel and walked back to the front door, shutting it a little harder than necessary behind her. Daryl let loose a long breath and ran a hand over his face. He hadn't expected her to drive all the way out here to badger him about last night's events, but he realized that she probably had the right to. He'd literally fled from the alleyway and left her alone and extremely confused. He cursed himself for running away, but at the same time, he knew it was for the best. Daryl wasn't ready for the level she had taken things last night.

It had been a long time since he'd been with a woman, and none of the women he had seen in the past had been serious. The last roll in the hay he'd had was about five years ago with a woman he used to casually sleep with, a farmer's daughter by the name of Maggie. He and Maggie had messed around for a while until she'd gone and gotten herself a real husband and a farmhouse of her own to tend to. He hadn't seen her in years, not that he had any real desire to. Daryl had proven to himself that he didn't need women. They just complicated things.

That was probably why Zora's actions had scared him so much. He didn't want to admit that he was afraid to let a woman in his life, but he was. Very much so. He'd done just fine on his own until Zora had pushed and shoved her way into his life, and now nothing was how it used to be. He wasn't ready to take things to the next level, and he'd pushed her away as he so often did to those who tried to get close to him. He couldn't help it. Getting close to people who weren't Merle was something Daryl had never been good at.

Daryl moved to the kitchen table and picked up Zora's empty coffee cup, turning it over in his hands. He realized that with the exception of the kiss at the end of the night, he had had a good time with her in Atlanta. She was fun and fresh and new, and she was showing him a world he hadn't ever experienced. He vowed to try to maintain his friendship with her, because her boldness and frivolity were good for him. He just couldn't push their relationship beyond the level of friendship. Daryl didn't think he would ever be ready for that.

* * *

><p>"I can't believe he gave you the brush off!" Molly sighed. "What man in his right mind would turn down nookie with you?"<p>

"Hey! It was just a kiss!" Zora retorted. "It's not like I was pulling his pants down around his ankles or anything."

Molly giggled. "I know, I know. But still, you're the bee's knees, Zora! He must be off his nuts."

"Can't win 'em all," Zora shrugged, taking a sip of her drink. She and Molly had decided to meet up for a drink and some chatting at Walton's. Molly had told quite a story about nearly evading arrest at the large speakeasy that had been raided the previous night, and Zora had ended up spilling the beans about the disastrous outcome of her and Daryl's kiss. She was still sore about Daryl's rejection, and Molly was a welcome distraction. She needed to focus on viewing Daryl as just a business partner, nothing more. It was harder than she cared to admit.

"He's a rag-a-muffin anyway," Molly said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Those country fellas can't keep up with us city girls. You need a man who's hip to the jive, y'know?"

Zora shrugged. "I guess. Daryl's just so different, though. He intrigues me. I find his mystery alluring."

Molly smirked. "Oh, I know. You always liked the mysterious types. But you gotta let him go. And look, I think I see the perfect distraction."

Zora followed Molly's line of sight to a well-dressed young man with black hair who was eying the pair of them shamelessly. She nudged Molly under the table and the two of them giggled.

"I think he likes you," Molly said with a smirk. She was right. The man's eyes were glued to Zora, and when she met his gaze, he arched his eyebrows a bit, as if inviting her to approach.

"Go get a wiggle on, go talk to him," Molly urged, practically shoving Zora out of her chair and in the direction of her admirer.

"Fine, fine," Zora sighed, and Molly slipped away toward the bar to order herself another drink. Zora sidled up to the dark-haired man and leaned against the wall next to him.

"So, are you gonna buy me a drink or are you just gonna stare at me all night?" she asked him playfully. He gave her a side smile.

"You've got a point. I'll buy you whatever you like, doll. What's your name?"

"Zora."

He took her hand and kissed the top of it. "Lovely to meet you, Zora. I'm Frank."

Zora gave Frank her best sultry smile, and, still holding her hand, he led her toward the bar.

"Get the lady anything she asks for," he told Cecil behind the bar.

"You know what I like," Zora shrugged to Cecil, and he grinned at her and began making her the usual moonshine cocktail she typically ordered.

"Chummy with the bartender, eh?" Frank noted. "So you must come here often."

"I do," Zora replied. "I used to be dancer here, too."

Frank arched his eyebrows in approval, and Zora knew he was picturing her in the risqué outfit Walton's dancers wore.

"That would be a sight to see," he said, and she winked at him playfully. Cecil slid her cocktail toward her across the bar and went to work making whatever Frank was drinking. Frank pulled one of the barstools out for Zora in an invitation to sit, which she accepted. She caught Molly's eye from across the room and suppressed the urge to giggle at the look of smug satisfaction on her face.

"So what do you do, Frank?" she asked, turning her attention to her admirer.

"I'm a bank teller downtown," he said. "And yourself?"

"Salesgirl," Zora lied smoothly. She couldn't exactly tell people she had just met that she was a bootlegger, even though she had spilled the beans to Daryl soon after meeting him. She blinked the thoughts of him away and tried to focus on the handsome man in front of her.

"Where're you from?" she asked. She didn't really care where he was from, but she needed to punch the bag to avoid awkward silences, and she was running through her usual questions.

"Jackson, Mississippi," he replied. He began talking about his hometown, and Zora couldn't help but to tune him out. She nodded and hummed when appropriate, but she wasn't taking in anything Frank was saying. Her thoughts kept drifting back to Daryl and what he may be doing now. Probably skinning some dead animal he had killed, or tending to the moonshine still. She wished she could rid him from her mind. Now that the possibility of their relationship ever moving past friendship was gone, it was as though he invaded her thoughts even more. She soon finished her drink, which Frank quickly replaced, and then another, and another. She realized she was attempting to drink Daryl out of her mind, but it wasn't working.

She wasn't saying much of anything, but Frank seemed content to do all the talking. He was clearly quite full of himself, but Zora didn't mind. She didn't have much to say anyway. She realized she was significantly fried, and she allowed her eyes to drift down to Frank's lips. They were smooth, and much fuller than Daryl's. She shook her head. No. No Daryl.

"What's the matter, doll?" Frank asked, noticing her shaking her head at herself.

Zora said nothing and leaned in to him, pressing her lips hard against his. Frank seemed to immediately forget his concern from moments before and kissed her back passionately. His tongue found its way into her mouth and explored aggressively. His face was smooth, not rough and prickly like Daryl's had been. Daryl also hadn't slipped his tongue in her mouth, but Zora found herself wishing for the fierce close-mouthed kiss he had reciprocated before pulling away from her the night before. She tried to focus on the man she was actually kissing instead of imagining that it was Daryl's lips on hers, but it was no use.

Here she was, necking with a man she had just met at the bar, and despite how handsome and suave this stranger was, she couldn't stop herself from constantly wishing that she could be kissing Daryl instead.


	11. Chapter 11

**July 4, 1925**

Zora glanced through the curtains of her father's apartment to observe the ruckus outside. It was Independence Day, and the city seemed to be filled with the sounds of celebration. Zora wished she could share the feelings of elation that seemed to have spread throughout the city. She was supposed to head out to Daryl's that day to pick up her next order, and the thought filled her with trepidation. She had not seen him since their brief discussion almost a week ago, and he had been plaguing her thoughts ever since. She knew seeing him in person would only provoke her thoughts of him even further, despite how much she tried not to allow herself to think of him.

"I understand that it's Independence Day and all, but I wish all the hootin' and hollerin' would quit," Zora's father complained from where he sat in the living room in front of a checkers board on the coffee table. Zora smiled at him and sat back down in her chair, studying the board for her next move. The pair were playing an afternoon game. Zora claimed that she had come by to keep her father company before his shift started that evening, but in reality, she was putting off going out to Daryl's house.

"This city always finds its own reasons to celebrate, and Independence Day is one of the only legitimate ones they have," Zora mused.

"I hope tonight isn't too crazy," her father muttered. "I'm gettin' too old for this shit."

Zora snickered. "The city would be one big blow without you to keep it in check, Daddy."

Daniel shook his head at his daughter in amusement. "That's what I keep tellin' myself." He glanced at the old clock that sat next to his gramophone and squinted to read the time. "Shouldn't you be headin' out soon? Thought you were goin' out to Daryl's today?"

"I am," she sighed. Her father arched an eyebrow at her tone, and she quickly recovered her facial expression. "Just not lookin' forward to the long drive is all."

He nodded. "You better be careful out there. Gang violence has been on the rise lately. Cermak's crew have been gettin' into lots of brawls with the Cazzola guys, and it's gettin' ugly. Half the time we don't know if it's territory-related or if they're fightin' just to fight."

"None of those guys would ever suspect me, Daddy. I'll be safe."

"The KKK are gettin' bolder, too. They lynched a fella for boozin' with some jigaboos."

"I wish you wouldn't use that word," Zora sighed.

"Hey, their words, not mine," Daniel shrugged. "I'm just sayin', everyone's gettin' more violent lately. Don't know what's gotten into people, and with all the ruckus going on with the 4th today, I'm worried it'll rile people up more. You make sure to take your gun with you out to Daryl's, in case you run into any trouble."

"I always do," Zora nodded seriously. "I take it with me almost everywhere. You never know when trouble will pop up."

"Good girl."

Zora made a move and captured the last of her father's pieces, winning the game. When she had been young, her father had always let her win. Now, he claimed he never lost without a fight of his own, but she never believed him. Daniel grinned at his daughter and made to stand from his chair.

"Well, why don't you let your old man get a little nap in before work, huh?" he said.

"Okay. I should get goin' anyway."

"What d'you say you come over for dinner tomorrow? I got the day off."

"Sounds great, Daddy."

Zora leaned in and gave her father a kiss on the cheek before gathering her things and making her way to the door.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she called to him, and he gave her a wave. She closed the door behind her and made her way down the stairs and out to where her car was parked on the street. It was about 4:00, but she could tell that people were already drunk on the street. She shook her head with a small smile and hopped in the car to begin the long drive out to Daryl's.

The sounds of the celebrating city faded away as she drove, but she heard the sounds of fireworks in the distance. People often traveled a little ways outside the city limits to light off fireworks on Independence Day, and she had often participated in such an activity. She wasn't sure what the evening would have in store for her, but she knew Molly would have something lined up if she wanted to take part in the festivities.

As Zora pulled up to Daryl's house, she could see him tending to his vegetable garden out back. She climbed out of the car and watched him for a moment before he noticed her, taking in the way the sweat shone on his skin and the dirt that was smudged around his neck and face. He looked filthy, but still ridiculously attractive to her. She sighed and made her way over to him, determined to get this over with.

"Afternoon," she called as she approached. He stood from where he was weeding and wiped the sweat from his brow, greeting her with a simple nod.

"Got your stuff all ready," he grunted, motioning for her to follow him to the shed. The crates of moonshine were stacked neatly by the door, and he immediately grabbed one and began loading up her car. Zora did the same, neither one of them speaking until the crates were stashed successfully in her backseat.

Zora reached for her purse in the passenger seat and pulled out the money for the order. She handed it to Daryl, who quickly shoved it into his pocket. She wondered why he never counted the money she gave him. She would never think of shorting him, but she wondered what prompted him to trust the amount she gave him every time. Maybe he just didn't care about money that much, or maybe he counted it later when she was gone, but it puzzled her every time she saw him do it.

The pair of them stared awkwardly at one another, unsure what to say. Daryl felt that usually he would invite her in for a drink or for dinner, but the invitation felt strange now that they were trying to keep their relationship professional. He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Well, I better go," Zora said quickly. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting, but the tension made her want to flee.

"Yeah, I got a lot of stuff to do," Daryl muttered, looking around at his garden. He didn't really have much to do at all, but he wasn't sure what to say to get rid of her.

"Uh, well, thanks," Zora said awkwardly. "I guess I'll see you next week."

Daryl nodded stiffly. Zora stood there for another moment before she felt her cheeks becoming flushed, and she quickly turned on her heel and walked to the driver's side of her car.

"Happy Independence Day," she said as she opened the door and climbed inside.

"You too," Daryl replied, his voice feeling strained and rough. She flashed him a small smile before closing her door and backing out of the driveway. He watched as her Model T drove away down the gravel road until the he couldn't see the dust from her car anymore.

Zora took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down. The interaction with Daryl had been almost painful. She couldn't believe how they had gone from being so playful and relaxed with one another to tense and awkward, and the change in their relationship was entirely her fault. If she hadn't kissed him, things would be as they were, and she would have been looking forward to her trip out to Daryl's that day. Why did she have to complicate things?

As she drove, she realized that even if Daryl had kissed her back, even if he had wanted her the way she wanted him, it would still have complicated their relationship. They were supposed to be business partners, not a couple. Romance and business did not mix well. A lover's spat could negatively affect the business, and the end to such a relationship would most certainly mean the end of the business. But even with those complications, she still wished that she could have Daryl the way she wanted.

"Stop being selfish and get over it," she muttered aloud to herself. She couldn't have everything she wanted, and she needed to stop sulking over Daryl.

As she drove back into the city and headed for Five Points, she suddenly noticed that a car had been tailing behind her for several blocks. She narrowed her eyes and wondered in paranoia if they were following her. She quickly turned down an unfamiliar street, and to her dismay, the car behind her followed. She made another quick turn, only to see her tail copy her route. Her heart began to pound, and she felt for the gun strapped to her thigh. Her father's words from earlier that afternoon echoed in her head. It could be Cermak's men, Cazzola's men, or the KKK. None of those options were good.

Zora took a deep breath and tried to steady her breathing. She made another turn and headed onto a larger road, driving away from Five Points. If someone was following her, she didn't want to lead them to her destination. The car followed her down the road for several blocks, and each time she turned, it mimicked her actions. Zora knew she was no longer being paranoid. She was definitely being followed.

She slowed to a stop at a stoplight, and the car weaved around her to pull up next to her. She tried her best to appear nonchalant and unsuspicious, and she chanced a side glance at the car. Three men were inside the vehicle, and all three seemed to be scrutinizing her and the contents hidden beneath the blanket in her backseat. Her hands were trembling, but she feigned confidence and gave the driver a flirtatious wink. The driver glanced at his companion in the passenger seat, and they seemed to be grinning. The light in front of them finally turned green, and Zora blew the men a kiss before moving on down the road. To her immense relief, the car turned down the next street away from her.

Zora let loose the panicked breaths she had been withholding. She pulled into the nearest parking lot and put the car in park, leaning over her steering wheel and trying to calm herself down. She didn't know which gang or organization the men had belonged to, but if she had done the wrong thing, it could have ended very badly for her. She closed her eyes and forced herself to take deep breaths until her heart rate slowed down to normal. When her hands had finally stopped shaking, she started her car again and began taking a very roundabout way back to Five Points.

"Thank God for being a woman," she sighed to herself as she finally pulled into the parking lot behind Walton's and her apartment. She quickly made her way in the backdoor of Walton's and waved a quick greeting to George and Cecil.

"Happy fourth," George called cheerily. "Cecil, you wanna start unloading her car?"

"You got it," Cecil replied amicably, heading out back to begin storing the moonshine crates inside.

"What's eating you?" George asked with a frown, noticing Zora's less than joyous expression.

"I was followed on the way here," she stated. George's eyes quickly darted to the back door, and Zora held up a hand. "No, it's okay. I lost the tail. But still. I don't like it. Daddy says gang and KKK violence is on the rise, and it makes me uneasy."

"You and me both," George sighed, his eyes full of worry. "Could you tell who followed you?"

"Dunno," Zora shrugged. "Three fellas in a car, they followed me for a while till they pulled up next to me at a stoplight. I winked at them and blew them a kiss and they gave up right after that."

George let out a long breath in a whistle. "Well I have to say that your gender is certainly working to our advantage. I don't like it though. What if they catch on?"

"I don't think it'll happen, but I'm still worried. Maybe I oughta save up for a bigger car, one with an extra row of seats so the crates aren't stacked high. If they can't see the stacks from the windows, I might get by easier."

"I think that's a good idea," George nodded. "With the extra money you're makin' from Dixon's Vixen, it shouldn't be long before you can afford a new car. Especially if you trade in the Model T."

"Yeah." Zora sat down on one of the barstools, deciding she was not in the mood for Fourth of July partying that evening, but that she did need a hefty drink to calm her nerves.

"Mind pouring me a belt?" Zora asked George. He nodded and moved behind the bar, quickly mixing her a moonshine cocktail. Zora knocked it back in a few sips and gave George a grateful smile.

"If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go up to my apartment and take a long relaxing bath. That's about as far as my Independence Day celebrations are going to get."

George laughed. "Okay, sunshine. If you change your mind, we've got a great band here tonight. Came all the way from Birmingham. You should check it out, if you're feeling up to it."

"Okay, maybe I will. Thanks, George."

"See you later, darlin'."

Zora slid from the barstool and slipped past Cecil, who was carrying in the last crate of moonshine. She would make her delivery to the Peachtree Tavern in the morning, as planned. For now, she needed some rest and relaxation alone. Her visit was Daryl had shaken her up enough without the close call of getting followed, and Zora wanted to just close her eyes and forget it all.

Trouble was, every time she closed her eyes, she saw a pair of piercing blue eyes staring back at her in her mind's eye.


End file.
